


This Is Love (I've Never Loved So Much)

by umisabaku



Series: Designation: Miracle [13]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Bisexual Character, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Genetically Engineered Beings, Gun Violence, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 04:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 102,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16590962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umisabaku/pseuds/umisabaku
Summary: Akashi thinks his relationship with Furihata is going well, as long as he can keep his father from ever meeting his boyfriend. Masaomi spends a lifetime distrusting love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story focuses heavily on original characters—each chapter will alternate between past and present and consequently every other chapter will focus entirely on the original characters set in the past leading up to right before "Don't Blink You'll Miss It" takes place. 
> 
> This takes place in the Designation: Miracle universe, and while knowledge of Designation: Miracle as a whole is necessary for reading this story, the previous two longer stories, "We're Never Coming Back (To Your Filthy Halls)" and "Your Heart Ain't Cold (Cause it Burns)" are the two that deliberately set up this story arc.
> 
> This series as a whole was inspired by the TV show Dark Angel and the title, as most of the titles, comes from a line in "And We Run" by Within Temptation ft. Xzibit.
> 
> This was betaed by the Secret Beta Fish, all mistakes are my own. This will not be an accurate representation of the JSDF, college, the past, or reasonable timelines. Please see the notes on the bottom for more warnings and discussion of posting schedule.

Akashi Seijuurou is relatively new to the concept of dating, but he feels like his relationship with Furihata Kouki is going very well. At least as far as the dating part is concerned. There are… complications. But those complications are entirely his private dilemmas to work on—the important part is that Furihata is happy, and he feels very confident that Furihata is happy.

Or at least, he did, until just now.

They just had dinner with Furihata’s parents, who are lovely people and always make him feel welcome. Furihata Kyo, the eldest son of the household, was _not_ home, which only increased the pleasantness of the evening. (It is always better when Akashi can concentrate on charming the Furihata parents, and not carefully field the griping comments of the older brother, who still didn’t _fully_ accept the relationship but was well on his way). Now, they are in Furihata’s bedroom, casually “hanging out” before Akashi has to head home for the evening.

And ever so gradually, Akashi has picked up on the fact that Furihata has been quiet, and not very communicative, and it is beginning to dawn on him that perhaps Furihata is upset about something.

Akashi isn’t fully sure how to handle this. He toys with a few options before deciding he might as well just ask, and does so.

“Is something bothering you, Furi?”

Furihata jerks, as if startled by the question. “No,” he says automatically, but then he pauses, and looks like he’s bracing himself for battle, and says, “Well. Kind of. Not _bother_ , exactly.”

Akashi waits patiently.

Furihata sighs and then meets his gaze. “Am I ever going to meet _your_ father?”

Akashi’s brain comes to a screeching halt.

*

Akashi did not have a conventional childhood. He was created in a lab, for one thing, and trained as an assassin, and he had superpowers. He and six other superpowered human experiments escaped the lab that created them four years ago, and had, with some occasional hiccups, a relatively normal life ever since then.

Given his childhood, it was saying something that he was aware that his relationship with his adopted father, Akashi Masaomi, was not exactly _conventional._

“That does not seem necessary, Furi,” Akashi hedges. “Masaomi-san is not my father in the same sense that your father…that is to say, he’s not someone you need to know.”

But that doesn’t work. “He’s important to you, isn’t he?”

“Well,” Akashi says, balking slightly at the question. Masaomi is an important figure in his life, but he can’t shake the feeling that if he agrees to that question he’ll be walking into a trap. He also feels slightly embarrassed by the question.

But Furihata is looking at him with such earnestness that he feels guilty. “Yes, I suppose it would not be inaccurate to say that. But that has absolutely no bearing on _our_ relationship.”

He’d said that in anticipation of Furihata’s argument that he should meet the important people in Akashi’s life, but instead of closing the argument, he has apparently made things _worse._ Furihata’s face falls, looking wounded, and Akashi is suddenly desperate to do anything that would make that sadness go away.

“Do you not…want him to meet me?” Furihata ventures.

“Yes, that’s it exactly,” Akashi says, pleased that Furihata understood. But then Furihata looks like he’s about to cry and that he’s trying very hard not to and Akashi feels like he must have gone wrong somewhere.

Akashi is not entirely sure what happened there, but he knows that he has to fix this. Not just because it bothers him greatly that Furihata is upset, but also because he doesn’t want Furihata to do anything reckless like, say, try to meet Masaomi on his own.

So the only thing he _can_ do is explain everything.

(Well. Mostly everything).

“Furihata,” he starts out carefully, trying to choose his words to make sure there are no misunderstandings. “My father is not someone you should know. He is a very dangerous person.”

“What do you mean?” Furihata says, alarm replacing his earlier sadness, which Akashi counts as a step in the right direction. “Akashi, does he _hurt_ you?”

“No,” Akashi says, managing not to laugh, which he’s sure would only give the wrong impression. But he’s aware he probably does sound amused when he says, “No, that's not what I mean.”

He leans back in his seat and tries to figure out a way to explain his father. Furihata had such a warm and loving relationship with his own parents that it might be difficult for him to understand Akashi’s viewpoint.

“Masaomi-san was probably the first human I ever respected,” he says finally, figuring that he’ll stick as close as he can to honesty. “I admire him a lot. He is incredibly intelligent, athletic, and rich, and I find him superior to most other humans in my acquaintance in every area.”

“Oh,” Furihata says, enigmatically.

“In many ways, it’s like he’s _not_ human,” Akashi persists, “And I usually think that’s one of his best qualities.”

“Alright,” Furihata says, his face curiously blank, which is very frustrating because Akashi isn’t sure if Furihata understands his explanation or not.

“Sometimes…sometimes it is a bit like he is an adult Red Zero,” Akashi says, and finds that this is the most difficult part to explain to his boyfriend. “And _that’s_ why I do not wish for you to meet with him, Furi. I would not ever want you to meet another Red Zero, it would be far too dangerous.”

Furihata frowns, which at least isn’t sadness or that strange neutral face. “But… you’re a Red Zero, right?”

“Yes,” Akashi says, grimacing. “We… that is to say, the Project Group… Red Zeroes are not good people. And that’s what Akashi Masaomi is like. He is…very combative. Any time he talks to someone he is looking for weaknesses, and ways to manipulate that person to his will. He never says or does anything without an ulterior motive. Even when he’s being nice, he is usually finding a way to exploit you. Simply put, I do not wish for him to hurt you, but he _would_ , if he met you, because that’s what he does.”

“But that’s not what you’re like!” Furihata bursts out, sounding genuinely dismayed.

“What?” Akashi says, confused.

“You said—you said he was like _you._ But that’s not what you’re like at all!”

Akashi finds it slightly adorable that that’s what Furihata chose to focus on. “Yes, I am, Furi. I am not like that with _you,_ but I am not a nice person. Surely, Kuroko can vouch for the accuracy of that statement.”

“But you _are_ nice,” Furihata insists. “It can’t just be because we’re dating, you were nice to me when we first met, remember?”

“When we were abducted together?” Akashi says, because that had been a _very_ unusual situation.

“No, before that. Remember, when we were playing basketball together? We weren’t dating then and you were nice without ulterior motives.”

“…Right,” Akashi says, suddenly aware of the _very_ dangerous territory he was now in. He _had_ been nice to Furihata in their early meetings, because he was trying to figure out the secret behind Furihata’s immunity to his powers.

…He’d also been planning on killing Furihata, if his immunity to their abilities proved to be a threat to their existence.

It is probably best not to mention that.

“The point is, Masaomi-san would try to destroy you, and I don’t—I don’t want him to hurt you. Please, Furihata, I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

It is not easy for him to _ask_ for things. But he has to ask, and hope that Furihata understands.

“You don’t want me to _ever_ meet your dad?” Furihata exclaims. “How would that even work? We—we _are_ dating, it just seems like it’s unavoidable—”

“I am confident we can keep your interactions together to a bare minimum,” Akashi reassures. “I am sure you will meet at some point, but only very far in the future. If it still matters then.”

Lot’s of things could happen in the future, Akashi figures. Masaomi might die, or something. And then the meeting would be a moot point. Or he and Furihata might move abroad, in which case it certainly wouldn’t matter. Or maybe Furihata will have lost interest in the meeting by then, which would certainly be the optimal solution.

At any rate, he didn’t want Furihata meeting Masaomi until after Akashi and Furihata were legally married. He wouldn’t have to worry about Masaomi scaring Furihata away at that point.

“Oh,” Furihata says, swallowing and looking down. “OK.”

Akashi should have left it alone at that, but it is _very_ important to him that Furihata _never_ meets Masaomi, so he presses, “Promise me that you won’t meet him.”

“I promise,” Furihata laughs, although the sound is a little weak. “It’s not like I could just go up to him; he’s in Kyoto. I _do_ promise,” he says, seeing Akashi’s face.

“Good,” Akashi says, satisfied.

*

Akashi has a private helicopter pilot who will take him to Tokyo. It’s one of those perks to having one of the richest men in the world as his adopted father. In the silent hours of darkness on the flight back to Kyoto, Akashi reflects on what happened, and it disturbs him. It is one thing to get Furihata to promise not to meet Masaomi, but Akashi can’t control all the variables.

Namely, Masaomi. Masaomi is an uncontrollable variable. Masaomi has been very clear that he wants to meet Furihata. And Akashi has turned it into one of the games they play—if Masaomi meets Furihata on his own, then he loses, and Masaomi very much hates to lose. That’s _almost_ enough to prevent the meeting, but Akashi isn’t sure if it’s enough. And in the privacy of the helicopter and the air and the darkness, Akashi admits to himself that he’s terrified of what will happen when it stops being enough.

The thing is, Furihata is a weakness. And Akashi _hates_ having weaknesses, but he will allow himself this one. The problem is he _can’t hide it._ This is his major failing. Everyone who saw them together instantly knew that Furihata was a vulnerable point for Akashi, which is why Akashi very much tried to contain who saw him and Furihata together.

The other Miracles, in a streak of good fortune, all had people they cared about. They had their own vulnerable points. So an unspoken rule amongst them was: Do Not Touch The Boyfriends. If someone started using the Boyfriends as something to exploit, then all bets were off, and no one wanted that. Akashi is safe from them because no one wanted to start the path of Mutually Assured Destruction.

Akashi Masaomi did not have the same leverage.

Masaomi had acquaintances, but Akashi had never seen him _care_ about anyone. His closest relationships seemed to be with his Executive Director, Hinamori Akane, and Kasamatsu Youji, who as far as Akashi could tell, just spent lots of Masaomi’s money. Masaomi had a string of girlfriends for as long as Akashi had known him, but no one _serious._ No one like Furihata.

If Masaomi found out how much of a weakness Furihata was, then that was it. Any battle they had from then on would always be Masaomi’s win. He could use Furihata against Akashi at any moment and there was nothing Akashi could do.

And Furihata would be caught in their war, and that was also something Akashi wished to avoid.

Akashi clenches his fists. All of that could have, perhaps, been bearable, except…

Except.

*

About a month ago, Masaomi had casually asked over dinner, “Do you think it’s possible for a human to be born immune to your abilities?”

A million things had run through Akashi’s mind in that moment, but the most important thing was to make sure that Masaomi didn’t realize that question meant anything at all to him. So he just tilted his head, as if he found the idea amusing. “What a quaint idea, Father. Are you looking for a way to improve yourself?”

“Ha! You wish. You and yours are barely a threat. No, I’m curious purely from an intellectual standpoint. There are people who have demonstrated slight resistancy, after all. The logical next step would be someone who was altogether immune.”

It _sounded_ logical, but Akashi knew better than to believe the surface explanation for anything his father did. And it seemed _too_ coincidental, considering Akashi had just found out that the Legacy-line was _also_ looking for an immune human.

“That is a simplistic sort of logic, Father. That is a bit like saying: some people can jump high, perhaps there are others who can fly.”

“Oh?” Masaomi says, raising a brow. “Can you say with a any kind of confidence that there _aren’t?”_

And _that_ was distressing, because with the existence of the Legacy-line, Akashi _couldn’t_ say with any kind of certainty that there _weren’t_ flying humans.

“Alright, I suppose it is theoretically possible,” Akashi allows. “Although I am not sure why it matters. If I ever met an immune human, I would most likely kill them immediately. I do not like potential threats, something that _you_ have always encouraged.”

“True, although there are so many more sophisticated ways of destroying a person beyond simply killing them, Seijuurou. The fact that you still default to murder only shows your immaturity.”

Since Akashi felt reassured that Masaomi didn’t suspect anything, he let that comment slide. “I don’t believe in varying from a proven method. Out of curiosity, if you’re not interested in enhancing yourself, why would you care if it was possible?”

“No reason, I suppose,” Masaomi says. “It would be a bit like a mythical creature, wouldn’t it? Like finding a unicorn. There’s a certain appeal to being the only man to own a unicorn.”

And _that_ was certainly an explanation Akashi could believe. Masaomi _liked_ collecting rare things. If Masaomi thought it was possible for an immune human to exist, he might search the ends of the earth just to be the only one to have one.

*

Akashi sits in the helicopter and thinks about how if Masaomi starts looking for an immune human, he wouldn’t have far to search.

It was distressing enough to think that the Legacy, heretofore a harmless entity, but now quite possibly their biggest threat, was looking for an immune human. It was even worse to think that Akashi still had no idea _why_ the Legacy wanted an immune human, or what they would do with one, if found.

But Masaomi was a whole separate issue entirely. Masaomi is the only person Akashi is willing to admit might actually _win_ if it came down to a head-to-head battle. He is the only opponent Akashi has ever deemed worthy.

It would distress Akashi if he had to kill Masaomi. He is… _fond_ of the man, and grateful, in his own way, for the life he had now because Masaomi had adopted him. If he had to kill Masaomi, he would miss the man, and regret the loss of a worthy enemy.

But he would still do it. If he had to.

*

“How long do you think Stockholm Syndrome lasts?”

Kasamatsu Youji, through many long years of overexposure, had come to accept the random appearance of Akashi Masaomi as if he was popping up from the earth, like the devil, and the even more random questions he tended to ask.

“I don’t know, I still got it a little, from that time I lived with you,” Youji says blithely.

“Har har, you’re hilarious,” Masaomi says, flopping down on the chair in front of Youji’s desk. “I’m asking you a serious question.”

“Why, have you kidnapped someone?” Youji asks, only slightly wondering if maybe Masaomi _had._

“Hm, maybe Stockholm Syndrome is the wrong term. Suspension Bridge Effect? Alright, hypothetically, you’re abducted with someone else and you think you’re in love with that person, how long does that typically last?”

“This is about your son’s love life?” Youji gapes. “You’re interrupting my work to talk about your son’s love life?”

Masaomi glances around. “Are you doing something important?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be in the training yard in about five minutes—”

“Oh, so you’re not doing anything important, good. Now, I’ve been looking into this, and it just doesn’t make any _sense_. Furihata Kouki is an incredibly average high school student. Like, almost ridiculously so. If you look up ‘average’ in the dictionary, there is a picture of this kid. He has average grades, average athletic skill, average looks, all his facebook posts are incredibly boring—”

“Are you _stalking_ your son’s boyfriend?” Youji exclaims.

“Not stalking!” Masaomi says indignantly. “You could hardly call it stalking, I just looked into his school records and social media, that’s all very standard, parental interest.”

“I’ve never stalked my kid’s love interests—”

“And why would you need to? Your sons are dating each other.”

Youji glares at his friend but lets it slide since, well, technically that was true. Masaomi just took weird gleeful delight in making that sound more incestuous than it was, considering Ryouta and Yukio weren’t blood related and had never thought of each other as siblings.

“Look, I’m just saying it doesn’t make sense. Not to brag, but Seijuurou is a rich, handsome, athletic genius, much like myself at that age—”

“And what sport did _you_ play when you were his age, Masa-chan?” Youji asks innocently, which Masaomi promptly ignores.

“He’s superior in every field. _And_ he has superpowers. Furihata Kouki is supremely boring. The most interesting thing that ever happened to him was his abduction by mad scientists, and even _that_ only occurred because he was near Seijuurou at the time. He’s an incredibly _normal_ kid.” Masaomi said “normal” like he was pronouncing something profoundly distasteful.

“I don’t mean to be elitist but frankly, my son could do better.”

Youji eyes his friend and wonders if he was aware… but no, he seemed to be stating the facts without a single sense of irony. Youji debates _mentioning_ … but no. If Masaomi genuinely didn’t see the parallels to what he just said and what people said about his own marriage to Shiori, then Youji wasn’t going to bring it up. For reasons he never fully understood, Masaomi didn’t like talking about Shiori. He had almost never said her name since she died.

“Opposites attract,” he says instead, because he can’t deny the fact that Akashi Seijuurou and Furihata Kouki are certainly an… _unexpected_ couple. “Why is this bothering you _now?_ ”

“It’s been bothering me for awhile,” Masaomi says shortly, and Youji gets the feeling that there’s _something_ there. Something _is_ bothering him. But Masaomi is not the kind of person who can just _say_ that.

“It is most likely because I haven’t meet him,” Masaomi allows. Youji keeps himself from rolling his eyes. Masaomi and Seijuurou had the _weirdest_ war going on about meeting Furihata. Masaomi kept insisting that if he took the initiative to introduce himself to Furihata then, “Seijuurou would win.”

“ _You’ve_ met him,” Masaomi says, perhaps finally getting to the point of why he was here. “Do you think _I_ would like him?”

Youji hesitates because, statistically speaking, probably not. Masaomi didn’t really _like_ people. “I think,” he starts slowly, and he shouldn’t say it, but he’d been thinking it for awhile so he decides to take the chance and says, “I think Shiori would have loved him.”

It’s hard to read Masaomi then. Youji has no idea what’s going on in his head. But then Masaomi snorts and says, “Well, _that_ hardly counts for anything. Shiori loved everyone.”

And what an _odd_ thing to say, Youji thinks. Since Shiori had always been up front about hating most people.

*

“I really do have to go to work,” Youji says, getting up.

“But we’re still talking,” Masaomi says, sounding genuinely perplexed and dismayed.

Youji almost feels bad, because it’s clear Masaomi needs to talk about _something,_ and it’s probably serious. But Masaomi never quite understood that other people couldn’t just drop everything to do something else. “I am currently working,” he says patiently, since it’s not exactly Masaomi’s fault he doesn’t understand how full-time jobs work. “But after work, I promise, we can go get dinner or something, and we can—”

“No, no good,” Masaomi says. “Who’s your boss?”

“Technically, the Japanese government.”

“Perfect, I own the government—”

“—But my commanding officer is Colonel Kobayashi,” Youji continues, slightly disturbed by Masaomi’s cheerful statement.

“Hm, fine, we’ll go ask him,” Masaomi says, wandering out, causing Youji to follow him in alarm. “Oh, Colonel! Excellent timing, I need to take Youji out for a nooner, is that OK?”

“Oh lord,” Youji says, burying his face in his hands.

Colonel Kobayashi Kyouma is a very straight-laced, unsmiling man, and he is currently glaring at Youji with a look Youji has received most of his life. It was a distinctive look that clearly said, “I blame you for the existence of Akashi Masaomi” and yeah, OK…fair. Masaomi would probably not have gotten involved with the JSDF if it wasn’t for Youji.

But Masaomi _was_ involved with the JSDF. In fact, he regularly made substantive donations, both monetary and in weapons and technology he designed. That tended to give him a lot of leeway with what he could do on base. More to the point, it was a well-known fact Masaomi had a lot of…connections…to some very high-ranking politicians.

“Sergeant Kasamatsu is supposed to be training the new enrollees,” Kobayashi returns, because he’s never been the kind of man who would back down easily, even given the fact that Masaomi could easily destroy his career on a whim.

“But this is important,” Masaomi smiles charmingly.

The colonel sighs, deciding that this really isn’t worth pushing back on. “Fine. Take a half day, Kasamatsu.’”

“Yes, sir,” Youji says meekly, feeling a bit bad for the colonel but also like this is almost certainly going to come back to haunt him.

Masaomi was a very chaotic person to know sometimes.

*

So now they’re sitting in a bar that’s almost entirely empty (because it is one in the afternoon) and Masaomi _still_ hasn’t said why they’re here and Youji vaguely feels like strangling the man.

It would be pointless to try and explain to Masaomi that he couldn’t just drag people away from their jobs because Masaomi would just say, clearly, _he could_. And it would even be fairly pointless to get mad at Masaomi for just being Masaomi.

“This had better be important,” Youji growls out anyway, because if it _isn’t_ important, Youji is going to be super pissed.

“It is,” Masaomi says, his voice stilted. Youji relaxes, because apparently Masaomi _does_ realize he was treading on thin ice. Masaomi sighs. “I suppose I could have waited, but I decided I wanted to talk to you about this, I thought it best to do so before I changed my mind again.”

Youji blinks. Holy crap, this _was_ serious. Something was obviously bothering Masaomi, especially if it was something he’d wanted to talk about before but didn’t. If this was something Masaomi had wanted to talk about, _changed his mind_ and was now concerned about backing down _again_ , then it must be something very important. Youji instantly forgives the man for dragging him out of work. This was clearly desperate measures time.

“You have my full attention.”

Masaomi nods and taps his fingers idly on the table. Youji is even _more_ intrigued because this is also clearly something Masaomi _really_ doesn’t want to talk about.

“Do you think they’re happy together?”

Youji has to take a sip of his beer just to give him time to mentally backtrack the conversation. “Seijuurou and Furihata-kun?”

Masaomi nods, fixing his eyes on Youji.

“To be honest, Masa-chan, I don’t know Furi-kun _that_ well. I haven’t seen them together often, but yeah, I guess,” Youji shrugs. “They’re teenagers in their first relationship. I’ve never seen anything to make me think they’re unhappy.”

Masaomi lips purse into a thin line, clearly not satisfied.

“Why do you ask?” Youji asks gently.

Masaomi look away and stares studiously at nothing when he say, “I have just been thinking lately that I am not sure it is a good idea for those two to be dating.”

“That is…an odd thing to be thinking about,” Youji says, wondering what prompted this. From their earlier conversation, it seemed like Masaomi thinks Furihata isn’t good enough for his son.

Which, for _most_ rich, genius, ambitious parents, that might be a reasonable conclusion. Most rich, genius, ambitious parents might not like the idea of their children dating someone below their standards. But Masaomi wasn’t like that.

Or at least, Youji had never known Masaomi to care about things like that. He wonders if his friend’s standards might have changed.

“I think you’re going to have to dumb things way down for me, Masa-chan,” Youji says, almost apologetically. Masaomi sometimes thought in complicated circles of logic that could be hard to follow, and occasionally needed reminding that people couldn’t always follow along.

“Alright,” Masaomi says, his attention once again returning to Youji full fold. “When I was married, I always had a very specific fantasy of having my wife present dinner to me while wearing nothing but an apron.”

There is a long silence as Youji’s brain struggles to keep up with this statement. “OK,” he says slowly, “That’s a surprisingly adorable and domestic sexual fantasy, Masa-chan.”

“Right?”

“Kind of tame, all things considered.”

“Appallingly tame! But Shiori wouldn’t do it.”

“…Oh?” Youji says, his brain still wandering somewhere in a cornfield maze of perplexion.

“No, she flat out refused to be naked under an apron. I was always the person who ended up being naked under the apron.”

“That’s…an interesting insight into your marriage and sex life,” Youji says. He feels like he’s actually reached new levels to “confusion.” He feels like he’s moved past confusion and straight into some entirely new realm of baffled. For one thing, they _never_ talked about their wives like this… they’d certainly been very open about their sex lives with one another. They’d had a lot of girlfriends (and, in Youji’s case, the occasional boyfriend) where their sex lives had been described in intricate detail, but not Hinami and Shiori. They’d _never_ talked about Hinami or Shiori.

“Out of curiosity, what exactly were her objections?” Youji asks, mostly as a way to try and regroup his mental facilities around the fact that they were having this discussion.

“Shiori objected very strongly to any kind of cosplay she thought reinforced unpleasant gendered stereotypes,” Masaomi explains.        

“Ah,” Youji says, “makes sense.”

“She didn’t like maid, either. Or geisha, or playboy bunny, or school girl—”

“Oh, _Masa-chan,_ really?”

“I didn’t _want_ —I just wanted to see where her lines were drawn. I didn’t _actually_ want her to wear a school girl uniform,” he sulks.

“Good. Pervert.”

“I _didn’t_. She didn’t object to nurse, but she preferred doctor. Likewise with stewardess and captain. And I respected that! But the naked apron is a _classic_ and it’s not, like, _super_ gendered, not really. And since I really wanted her to, you’d _think_ the wifely thing to do would be to humor me—”

“I don’t remember you ever mentioning a naked fantasy before,” Youji says, since they _had_ been pretty open about their sexual proclivities, once upon a time.

“It was very uniquely wife specific,” Masaomi muses. “I never wanted it from a girlfriend. But there’s something oddly appealing about coming home to the person you love, having them be naked under an apron, with dinner on the table, and say—”

“‘Do you want dinner, a bath, or me?’”

“Exactly,” Masaomi says, pleased Youji is catching on, although Youji is fairly certain he is still very much lost.

“OK. I’m going to mock you about your domestic fantasies later, but OK. What exactly is the point to this?”

“ _So,_ the point is, one time I got really irritated, OK? And I just yelled, ‘Damn it woman, it’s not gendered, go put on the damn apron and _she_ yelled back, ‘If it’s not gendered, go put on the apron yourself.’”

“Ah. Thus why you were the one naked under the apron.”

“Precisely.”

“So?”

“So,” Masaomi says, beginning to struggle. He swallows and looks away again. “So, lately, I’m beginning to wonder what our relationship would have been like if she’d had to obey my every command.”

In one brilliant flash of light all the pieces fall together and make one very clear picture. “Oh, _Masaomi—_ ”

“Because that happens, right? In any relationship, you just tell someone to do something without thinking about it. And they don’t need to obey you, if you do that, because that’s why free will exists. It exists so you can says, ‘No, I am not going to be naked under an apron, for you’ and even if you think they’re being absurdly cruel to you, you can’t _make_ them be naked under the apron, because that’s marriage.”

“Ah yes, the classic definition for what marriage is. Masaomi—” Youji waits to see if Masaomi is going to interrupt him again, but Masaomi just looks up expectantly. “You don’t—you don’t need to worry about Seijuurou and Furihata-kun.”

This _is_ an awkward situation. Because Youji absolutely understands what the problem is, and it’s—actually really nice. Youji feels a complicated series of emotions he promptly squashes down with a steel-toed military boot. But it’s actually kind of adorable that this is something Masaomi was concerned about.

He really, really wishes he could explain to Masaomi that there was nothing for him to be worried about in that area because that’s something Masaomi obviously needs to know.

But. That’s the awkward part.

He literally can’t.

*

Youji found out about Furihata’s immunity shortly after the rescue of the Second Teiko kids. Furihata had been very worried about the “S-1s” and the “S-7s” that he’d been kept with during his capture, Mihashi Ren in particular, and he’d come by to check on them. Youji was trying to figure out how to explain nicely that the children all screamed whenever anyone came near them and it was probably best if Furihata didn’t speak to those kids when Mihashi and a few of the other S-1’s all approached Furihata in heretofore unseen happy and calm quietude.

He hadn’t been able to hide his shock at the sight, and had mused out loud that perhaps the kids felt comfortable around someone who had experienced the same trauma they had, but then Furihata had just laughed nervously and said, “Oh, no, I think it’s because I’m immune?”

“You’re what?” Youji had said, and then Furihata explained a) that the children apparently read minds and _that_ was certainly good to know and b) that they couldn’t read Furihata’s.

Youji had just enough time to wonder if that immunity extended to the other Miracles before Furihata disappeared somewhere with Mihashi and Akashi rounded on him like an angry tiger, glowing red.

“You will not tell anyone of Furihata’s immunity, not through word, writing, or action. You will not communicate this fact in any way, nor provide any hint so that others might figure it out for themselves.”

Youji had actually been impressed with the thoroughness of the Order. Akashi was clearly someone who knew how to avoid a loophole.

The fact that Akashi _remained_ incredibly thorough with this Order was more sad than inconvenient. Akashi made a point of stopping by at least once a month to reinforce the Order. At one point, Youji had tried to say, “You know, kid, you could just _ask_ me. I’m very happy to keep Furihata-kun’s secret, if that is what would make you feel better. Believe it or not, I’m very good at keeping secrets. You could trust me.”

Akashi stared at him for a long time, with the unblinking stare of a lion, before he said, “I am not who I am because I can trust.”

And Youji said, “That’s…kind of tragic, really.”

“Yes,” Akashi said, surprising Youji with agreement. “But even so, I have survived. And I will continue to do what is necessary.”

And it _was_ tragic. It was so heartbreaking that Youji vowed he _never_ would tell anyone Furihata’s secret, if by some miracle Akashi ever stopped renewing his Order. Because he knew what it was like to keep secrets in order to survive, and he didn’t want to betray that for anything.

Youji also figured that Akashi must have his own reasons for not telling his father, and Youji didn't think it was his place to meddle (too much) in another parents’ affairs with his kids.

Also…also he was sure Masaomi probably wouldn’t _like_ the fact that Akashi put Youji under an Order. Youji’s pretty sure that was something that would upset Masaomi. A lot. And, if at all possible, Youji did not want to be the reason those two went to war.

*

Which was _fine_ , up until this moment, when he wants to be able to reassure Masaomi that Akashi couldn’t accidentally Order his boyfriend to do something against his will.

“Seijuurou’s a good kid,” he says, instead, thinking that he can at least try and talk Masaomi off this strange parental freak-out he’s having. “You don’t really have a reason to think he’d do anything…Furihata wouldn’t want, right?”

Masaomi actually looks kind of miserable. “That’s just it. I kinda think I do. Have a reason.”

“What do you mean?”

It’s clearly _not_ something Masaomi wants to talk about, but he says, “Do you know when they started dating? Officially?”

At this point, Youji has essentially given up on being confused about the randomness of Masaomi’s questions. “About three months after their abduction, I think. Which I only know because Ryouta came home with a crap ton of stuffed animals that Mizuki and Ren distributed to their classmates the next day. He said he was helping Seijuurou on a quest for love.”

“Right, _I_ only know that because Seijuurou spent almost 8,000 dollars that day. My concern is—if they didn’t start dating until _after_ their abduction, why was the head scientist who abducted them convinced they were fucking?”

“What?” Youji says, growing alarmed, but not entirely sure why. “What are you talking about?”

Masaomi looks slightly abashed, but only slightly. “I was able to get a hold of his personal laptop awhile ago—stuff that he kept off the shared network Satsuki-chan hacked into. He kept records on Seijuurou—”

“And you never _told_ us?” Youji exclaims. “That’s something the JSDF soldiers should know—”

“No,” Masaomi interrupts with a forceful command. “It’s not.” And for the first time, Youji gets the sense that Masaomi is genuinely _angry._ That was actually a rare thing—Masaomi didn’t get angry, he got revenge.

“That man,” Masaomi pronounces this carefully and with a great deal of disdain, “was far too interested in the sex lives of two sixteen year old boys.”

Youji sits back, letting that information settle in and churn in his gut, as he suddenly thought about all kinds of horrific things that had never occurred to him to think about, when Teiko had so many other horrific things to be concerned about.

“He was writing about _my son_ ,” Masaomi says, the undercurrent of wrath still there. “So no, I did not think it was something I should share with a third party. But. He did seem to be under the impression they were sleeping together and…” It is strange to see Masaomi so hesitant. He swallows and continues, “and he seemed to think it wasn’t consensual.”

“ _What?”_ Youji shouts again. “Masaomi, this is—”

“I didn’t _believe_ him,” Masaomi cuts in quickly, before Youji could continue his accusations. “The man was _nuts,_ Youji. He seemed to think of the Miracles as little better than animals. He talked about things like mating instincts and imprinting and other bullshit like that, and it was obvious he was _wrong._ I _still_ think that—but you can see why I started to grow concerned. I thought Seijuurou’s refusal to introduce me to his boyfriend _was_ just a friendly battle, but lately it seems more serious than that. I think he genuinely doesn’t want me to ever see them together.

“And Furihata-kun is _just_ a normal kid. There’s nothing in his background that would explain Seijuurou’s interest in him. And when I was looking into him—well, prior to Seijuurou, he seemed only interested in _girls_ , so you could see why maybe I started to get a little concerned—”

“Oh god,” Youji says, because yes, when you lay it all out like that, the picture it painted… was not great. Even taking Furihata’s immunity into account, there were still a whole lot of unexplained things in there. But _surely_ not. “That doesn’t necessarily mean…not everyone has a clear path to homosexuality, you know. He might have just…kept quiet about it. Or recently discovered he was bisexual. That’s not uncommon at his age.”

“I’m aware,” Masaomi says dryly. “But I think it would be reckless to talk myself out of this.”

“He’s your _son_ ,” Youji says, feeling the need to defend Seijuurou. “Do you _honestly_ believe he’s capable of raping someone?”

Masaomi’s look is fixed and very calculated. “No,” he says sharply. “I am certain he is not. But I am equally certain that if every parent who ever thought, ‘No, not my child,’ was actually correct, there would be a hell of a lot less rapists out there in the world. I think it is our obligation as parents, particularly parents of sons, to at least be willing to admit there are possibilities beyond what we believe in regards to what our children may or may not do.”

“Holy crap,” Youji says, blinking. “That…actually sounds rational.”

“Don’t act so surprised.”

“I can’t believe you made me feel like a bad parent for _not_ suspecting my sons of raping someone.”

“Good! You should feel that way.”

Youji shakes his head, because maybe it makes sense, but he still can’t fathom doubting his children. “Look, Masaomi, I _don’t_ think there’s anything to be concerned about. I think there’s probably a reasonable explanation for everything. But if you have _any_ doubts about the consensual nature of their relationship, then you _have to meet Furihata-kun._ OK? No more of this, ‘then Seijuurou would win’ bullcrap. Go meet him, end of story.”

“And say _what?_ ” Masaomi says, exasperated. “Hey, we’ve never met, but quick question: is my son raping you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t _lead_ with that.”

“And that’s just it, Youji—I know you think my ‘battles’ with Seijuurou are ridiculous—”

“You have a point system. Against your son. It _is_ ridiculous.”

“—but it’s very integral to our father-son dynamic,” Masaomi says, glaring. “And if he _is_ …behaving inappropriately…I will _never_ be able to stop him if I forfeit this battle and meet Furihata on my own.”

Youji feels the beginning of a headache. It’s a very familiar, Masaomi-related headache. “OK. Your relationship with your son is messed up as fuck, I just want you to know that.”

“Do I throw stones at your glass house?”

“ _But,_ ” Youji says, ignoring Masaomi entirely. “If this is important to you, I’ll figure something out. Not because I care about your psychological battles with your kid, but for Furihata-kun’s sake. If there’s even the slightest chance he doesn’t want to be in that relationship, than _we_ , as adults and parents, need to do something about that.”

“If _you_ want to verify whether or not he’s in that relationship consensually, that would be a _massive_ help, thanks.”

“I said I’ll figure something out,” Youji says. “I’m fairly certain that question would be even weirder, coming from me, a random adult he barely knows.”

“What are you going to do, outsource this to your kid again?”

“Watch it,” Youji warns, feeling slightly guilty because he _had_ been wondering if Yukio might be able to help, but not appreciating the fact that Masaomi called him out on it.

“Because that would be helpful. Chibi-Hinami seems like an excellent candidate for this.”

“I’m not going to ask Yukio to fix our problems.” Again. He’s not going to ask Yukio to fix his problems _again._ “Anyway, I’ll think on it. Give me a couple hours. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

Masaomi nods, accepting this. And it’s actually kind of nice, that Masaomi would ask for his help on this. Masaomi doesn’t ask for help, not ever. And…

And it’s nice to think he’s still someone Masaomi would come to. He hadn’t been sure if that was still the case.

Youji leans back, feeling heavy and worried from the conversation, with the intense need to not end their conversation on that note. “Sooo. Naked under an apron, huh?”

“I just think it would be incredibly sexy,” Masaomi says. “It’s really the one thing where sentiment actually highlights the experience. The naked apron means nothing coming from a cheap floozy.”

“This is really unexpected insight into your sexual fantasies, Masa-chan,” Youji says. He takes a sip of his beer and then casually tosses out, “I would have gone naked under the apron.”

Masaomi looks at him sharply and then raises a brow. “That hardly counts for anything, _you_ would have put on a chicken suit, if Hinami asked you.”

Youji smiles wryly into his cup and then laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. I definitely would have. Probably would have been fun, too.”

“You’re not allowed to mock me for my sexual fantasies.”

*

Furihata Kouki lies on his bed and tries to imagine a life without Akashi Seijuurou. 

The thought is enough to cause a small panic attack and it makes him want to cry and to his intense shame he even starts to tear up a little and it’s all incredibly appalling. But. He figures this kind of image training is important, so that when Akashi inevitably breaks up with him, maybe it won’t be so bad.

*

He suspects it’s going to happen any day now and that’s why he’s trying to mentally prepare himself.

Not that Akashi has done anything to lead him to believe this is going to happen—not exactly. So it would be easy to tell himself this is all in his head and he should just get over it. Except the thing about it being all in his head is that it is very hard to escape an idea, once it’s there.

It started when he visited Akashi in Kyoto, and some of Akashi’s classmates were there. They were all gorgeous girls with designer clothes and handbags and they would have never given Furihata the time of day, but they were all clearly a little in love with Akashi.

It was hard to stop the logic of, if girls who are out of my league are in love with my boyfriend, then my boyfriend must be leagues out of my league; once that kind of logic presented itself.

And once he started thinking about it— _really_ started thinking about it—he couldn’t shake the idea that the two of them just didn’t make any sense.

_Then_ there is the whole— _thing_ —where Akashi didn’t want Furihata to meet his father.

Then there was _that._

Akashi had said, “He was the first human I ever respected,” and when he talked about Masaomi, Furihata got the sense that Akashi _did_ admire him. But as Akashi was listing all of Masaomi’s traits—intelligent, athletic, rich; ruthless, dangerous, more like a genetically designed superpowered being and not like a human at all—Furihata couldn’t help but think, _Then why do you like_ me _?_

Because if Masaomi was the first human Akashi ever admired, it is surely because Masaomi himself was superhuman. And Furihata…definitely is not.

And OK, _maybe_ Furihata has been reading more romance novels lately, specifically of the paranormal type, but, occasionally he’ll run across the trope of this incredibly amazing, hot superbeing in love with an ordinary person. And it’s usually because they’re an ordinary person, or something—this amazing godlike being falls in love with the ordinary because it’s something new for them. But Furihata keeps wondering—well, how long would that last? There’s so many ordinary people out there in the world. Surely, the appeal wouldn’t last long.

Furihata can’t help but think that if they hadn’t been abducted together, Akashi would have never been interested in him. He thinks Akashi might be feeling some sort of _gratitude_ towards him, or something. Or maybe guilt. Furihata did get shot, after all. And while he hesitates to think he _saved_ Akashi, or anything grand like that, Akashi seemed to think it made a difference, having him there. So. Maybe Akashi was dating him because he felt grateful, and _that_ couldn’t last long.

They also haven’t… progressed rather far in their relationship. They kiss, but Akashi always pulls away, and Furihata’s not sure why. (Is it the kissing? Does he not like kissing? But he seemed to like kissing when they were pretend-dating. Of course, that was pretend. Even if it felt real. He’s not sure why _now_ Akashi would hesitate to initiate anything—unless Akashi really didn’t want to, in which case, he returns to that point about how he’s pretty sure Akashi wants to break up with him.)

He hates that he’s like this. Insecure and weak and gross. Akashi texts him all the time, they talk all the time, they see each other as often as they can. There’s no reason to think Akashi is going to break up with him soon.

_I am sure you will meet at some point, but only very far in the future. If it still matters then._

That sort of implied Akashi thought it might not matter in the future, didn’t it? Like, maybe Akashi didn’t think they’d always be together, so Furihata wouldn’t need to meet his father.

He buries his head under his pillow and wishes that was enough to drown out all his thoughts.

*

“Hey, Kouki, do you know where my skateboard is? What are you doing?”

Furihata resurfaces from under his pillow and sees his older brother Kyo standing in the doorway, looking vaguely concerned. “Nothing. I don’t know where your skateboard is.”

“What’s up? You look kinda death-like.”

Furihata shrugs. Kyo isn’t Akashi’s biggest fan, so there’s no point talking to his brother about it anyway.

“Is it school? Basketball? Boy troubles. Ah ha! It _is_ boy troubles.”

Furihata scowls. “You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. I might not like your boyfriend, but I don’t want to see you upset. Did he do something?”

“No, he’s always amazing.” And _that_ comes out sounding a little bitter even to him. But despite the fact that he’s aware of how bitter he sounds, he can’t stop himself from saying, “It’s me, I’m the problem.”

Kyo comes into his room and sits in the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Furihata sighs because he _does_ want to talk about it. He even wants to talk about it with Kyo, because he always went to his older brother for advice about everything. But this is super not something Kyo could even understand.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why? ‘Cuz it’s gay? I bet relationship problems are the same even if it’s just dudes involved, I’m sure I could help—”

“Because it’s _you,_ ” Furihata bursts out. And this is _definitely_ not what he meant to say, but once he starts he can’t stop. “You’re _always_ the coolest person in a relationship, so you don’t know what it’s like to be ordinary.”

“What are you talking about?” Kyo asks, sounding thoroughly confused.

“Me! I’m not good enough for Akashi.”

“Did _he_ say that?” Kyo says, murderously.

“ _No._ He’s always—he’s always been great. But, I mean, it’s obvious, right? He’s this super amazing guy and I’m just _me_.”

“You’re amazing!” Kyo says, genuinely indignant. “Where do you even get these ideas? Of course you’re good enough!”

“He’s athletic and smart and rich—”

“So? You could have dozens of smart, athletic boyfriends, why settle for just one? Come on, Kouki, I bet you’re just beating yourself up over nothing.”        

_Again,_ seems implied in there, but Kyo kindly does not say that.

“Look,” Kyo says, suddenly awkward, “I don’t _like_ the guy, but he’s clearly gone on you. So I think you’re just worried about nothing. But if _he_ ever makes you feel like you’re not good enough, just tell me, OK? And I’ll go kick his ass.”

“I don’t think you could,” Furihata says, slightly concerned Kyo might try.

“I and my entire soccer team will go kick his ass,” Kyo amends, “At night, while he sleeps.”

Furihata grins wryly. “Yeah, OK. You’re right. I’m just being stupid.”

“Not stupid, just overthinking things,” Kyo says. “My girlfriend does that all the time. Like, if I don’t answer her texts right away, she thinks I’m mad at her, when 85% of the time it’s just because I fell asleep. Guys are really simple, Kouki. If he hasn’t said there’s a problem, there probably isn’t a problem.”

“Are you…making me the girl in this relationship?” Furihata asks.

“Aren’t you? I don’t know how it works with two dudes.”

“It means there’s two dudes!” Furihata says, hitting his brother with a pillow. Kyo laughs and easily subdues his little brother with one hand, but Furihata actually feels better after their conversation.

*

He gets a call from an unknown number. Furihata stares at it for half a second before he answers, because he always answers the phone. “Hello?”

“Furihata-kun? This is Sergeant Kasamatsu.”

“Oh! Hi!” Furihata is thoroughly confused. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no. You helped with the rehabilitation of some of the S-1 kids, and some of our scientists were wondering if you could come by for some follow-up questions. They’re hoping to start a new physical therapy program soon.”

“Oh!” Furihata says again, and then regrets it instantly because he must sound like an idiot. “I mean, that’s great. Sure! I’d love to help out, although I’m not sure what use I’d be.”

“Nonsense, you have a very valuable insight, Furihata-kun. So, is it OK if you come by the base tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I should be able to do that,” Furihata says. He’s excited by the idea, because he likes being helpful—and more importantly, he likes the idea that he _could_ be helpful. It’s nice to know there are things that he can do that are needed.

*

Furihata almost always comes to the base with Akashi, so it’s a bit odd to be here without him.

“I’m so glad you could come by, Furihata-kun,” Youji says earnestly, shaking his hand like they’re equals. As always, Furihata is struck by the resemblance to Kasamatsu Yukio, although Youji is almost always smiling when Furihata sees him and is often more friendly than his son. (Which is unfair to Kasamatsu, who Furihata is actually quite fond of, because he’s not _unfriendly,_ he just doesn’t smile too often and he’s usually making sure everyone behaves.)

“Did you get here OK?”

“Yes, I took the bus,” Furihata says, although the clarification seems a little lame, in retrospect.

“Good, good,” Youji says. “Are you still in touch with Mihashi-kun?”

“Oh, yeah, we text fairly regularly, and sometimes we hang out,” Furihata says. Sometimes they went on double dates—but that seemed too awkward to talk about with an adult he barely knew.

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear that,” Youji says, sounding earnest. “I always thought it was great that you guys got along.”

“Right,” Furihata says. “Um… are we going to talk to the scientists soon?”

“Absolutely! We should head out soon—oh, Masa-chan! What a lovely coincidence!”

“Coincidence?” A new voice says, causing Furihata to turn around and then freeze. “You—” he breaks off abruptly upon noticing Furihata.

“Furihata-kun, have you met Akashi Masaomi?”

“Er. No,” Furihata say, still frozen and panicking slightly.

“Really? How ridiculous! Masa-chan, you really should have introduced yourself by now, this is Furihata Kouki, Seijuurou’s friend.”

“Of course. It is so good to finally meet you, Furihata-kun, I’ve heard so much about you,” Masaomi moves forward first and shakes Furihata’s hand. Furihata can only go along with the motions because his brain still isn’t functioning properly. All he’s getting is random bursts of not very helpful flares of _Panic! Akashi’s father! Do not meet! Dangerous! Akashi won’t like it! You promised! Bad!_

“I’m so glad you’re both here,” Youji continues, completely oblivious to Furihata’s turmoil. “You’ve both been such a big help with the Second Teiko kids. Masaomi has a rehabilitation center in America for those kids, don’t you, Masa-chan?”

“Yes. A lot of the children there have made great strides towards recovery,” Masaomi says, his eyes fixed onto Furihata.

“Oh, that’s—nice,” Furihata says. He winces at how lame that sounds, but he means it—it _does_ sound nice. A lot nicer than the dangerous picture Akashi was painting in regards to his father would have led him to believe.

“It’ll be nice to talk to both of—oh, Michiru!” Youji calls to a passing soldier. “Sorry, Furihata-kun, Masa-chan, I need to go talk to Michiru for a second on some urgent business. I’m sure you two will have lots to talk about!” He claps them both on the shoulder and then darts off after a very pretty woman who looks vaguely familiar. Furihata has to literally bite his tongue to keep him from calling out, “No, don’t leave me!” because Youji’s presence was a safe buffer, and he’s desperately afraid of what will happen once he leaves.

But he does leave.

And now Furihata is alone with Akashi’s father, after Akashi had explicitly told him they should never meet.

“We might as well sit down,” Masaomi says, gesturing to the chairs in Youji’s offer. “Something tells me he’s going to be awhile.”

*

“What was that about?” Michiru asks suspiciously as Youji loops his arm in hers and walks hurriedly away.

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “I’m just helping Masa-chan with something.”

He feels like _probably_ he should have stayed to chaperone, but he thinks this really should be something Masaomi handles on his own. And now neither Masaomi nor Akashi have to worry about “losing” their ridiculous fight because neither of them knew the meeting was going to happen or had unfair advantages.

“Whatever. This is actually perfect timing, because there’s something I’ve been needing to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Youji releases his hold on her arm so that they’re walking side by side. “I’m all ears.”

“Right, so, you know Hisae-chan? Hisae Asaka? The analyst? Is any of this ringing a bell?”

“The one with purple streaks in her hair?” Youji asks, finally sifting through possible candidates. “Yeah, what about her?”

“She thinks you’re super hot and wants me to give you her number. And also maybe arrange a date. Thoughts?”

“She’s a _teenager,_ ” Youji yelps, stopping in his tracks.

Michiru stops too and raises a brow at him. “She’s twenty-eight, don’t be patronizing.”

“I’m still old enough to be her father,” Youji points out—although she is older than he thought based off her looks.

“You are not! That’s like, what? A sixteen year age difference?”

“I was sexually active at sixteen, so it’s theoretically possible,” Youji reasons. “Also, more importantly, that means she’s only nine years older than Yukio.”

“So? What kind of math is that?”

“As a rule, I don’t think I should be dating anyone who is in an age-appropriate range to date one of my children.”

“OK, see, we clearly have a vastly different idea about what is considered ‘age-appropriate.’ Come on, man. You’re still young, and at just the right age where most men would _love_ to have a younger girlfriend. Not to mention, you have that whole, ‘sexy but broken dad’ thing going for you. A lot of women are looking for mature men who can commit and you should really capitalize on that.”

“What are you, her pimp?” Youji demands.

“I might owe her a favor,” Michiru says, waving this aside. “For some incredibly unimportant thing. I promised I’d try, although I did warn her it was probably a lost cause.”

“Thank you. Now you can tell her you tried and we can all just carry on with our lives.”

Michiru crosses her arms and stares at him with that distinctly stubborn look he has come to recognize and dread. Her voice shifting, she says in more serious tones, “Youji, it’s time for you to start dating again.”

“Oh, for the—”

“I _mean_ it,” Michiru says. “If _you_ had been the one who died, Hinami would have already remarried by now.”

“Ouch,” Youji says, genuinely stung.

“ _Tell_ me you don’t think that’s true—”

“Of course it’s true. Hinami was a very practical woman. That was one of the many things I loved about her. She would have mourned for an appropriate time and then moved on. That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to hurt me with your truthful words.”

“She wouldn’t have _wanted_ you to mourn forever, don’t you get that? If she was watching you now, she would _hate_ it. And probably kick your ass for being such an idiot. Since she’s not here, I have to kick your ass _for_ her.”

Youji sighs. Michiru has, off and on, delivered the same speech for the past six years. It’s not completely surprising she’s bringing it up again now; Youji had been thinking recently it was about time for her to start again. “As it happens, I’ve been sorta thinking I should start dating again—”

“ _What_?” Michiru shouts.

“But not a woman,” Youji says firmly, before Michiru could get too carried away with her enthusiasm. “I—don’t think I could date women again.”

Michiru tilts her head quizzically. “Fortunately for you, there’s other options, but can I ask why a bisexual man is swearing off an entire gender?”

“Because I’d compare them,” Youji says, a tad helplessly. He’s thought a lot about this. “If I dated a woman, sooner or later, I would compare her to Hinami. I would always compare her to Hinami. And that—that wouldn’t be fair to any hypothetical woman I might date.” Because it would never be in that hypothetical woman’s favor. He doesn’t say that, but Michiru nods, and he suspects she understands. Hinami set a very high standard, and it was so hard to imagine anyone coming close to that standard.

“OK. So men it is,” Michiru says thoughtfully. “That’s not a problem. I actually know some guys who are interested, I could—”

“No,” Youji interrupts again, because it really is best to interrupt Michiru before she gets going. “I’m—I’m not so sure I could date a guy either.”

“Well, that’s narrowing your options down considerably. _Why?_ ”

Youji squirms. “You’re going to take it the wrong way.”

“You don’t know how I’ll take things.”

It’s only because Michiru is one of his oldest friends that he finally blurts out, “Because I’d compare him to Masaomi.”

Michiru stares at him.

She continues to stare at him.

The staring continues for a needlessly long time.

Finally, she says, “You don’t want to date a woman, because you would compare her to the high standard set by your beloved dead wife, the woman you loved more than anyone in the world.

“And you don’t want to date a man because you would compare him to—Masaomi. Your _completely platonic_ best friend.”

“Er. Yes. That’s about right,” Youji says.

“Honestly, Youji, I’m not sure how many ways there are _to_ take that statement.”

Youji looks down, feeling slightly wretched.

“Look, I’ve danced this dance with you for _years._ You _know_ that I, like many people who know the two of you, think you and Masaomi should have sexed it up years ago, but if you want to explain how you meant that in a _completely platonic_ , bro sort of way, I’m happy to hear it, and I’ll believe you.”

Youji continues to look down at the ground. It is not easy for him to talk about his feelings. It never has been. And it’s not easy to talk about— _this._ He kept it locked down and repressed for awhile now, and it’s weirdly only because he kind of wishes he could talk to Hinami about it, that makes him sort of want to talk to Michiru about it.

So, quietly, awkwardly, he says, “OK, it might not be in a _completely_ platonic way—”

He’s interrupted by the sound of Michiru shrieking. “Not here! If we’re doing this, we’re doing this _right._ ”

She grabs him by the arm and drags him forward, practically running.

“Colonel! Me and Youji need to take a half day! It’s an emergency!”

Kobayashi just looks at Youji. “Another nooner, Kasamatsu?”

Youji blushes faintly but Michiru just puffs up in her fake outrage she’s very good at using. “How dare you? Are you suggesting that because I’m a woman? That’s sexual harassment, I should—”

“Just,” Kobayashi holds his head. “Go. Both of you. Be gone.”

“Awesome, thanks Colonel!” Michiru blows a kiss at him and then continues to drag Youji away.

*

A few minutes have passed in silence, and Furihata is thoroughly panicking now, he’s practically shaking. It’s like when he first stepped onto a basketball court for an official game, only _a thousand times worse_ because he doesn’t have any reliable teammates here to back him up if he screws up. It’s even worse than when he squared off against Akashi in the Rakuzan game.

In some ways, the only comparable situation was sitting in the office of the man who abducted him. That man offered to make Furihata _better_ and it was terrifying, because Furihata hadn’t been sure if the man was going to kill him or not.

He is fairly certain Akashi Masaomi is not actually going to kill him, but it really doesn’t help that he keeps thinking about Akashi’s warnings: _He is a very dangerous person. Masaomi-san would try to destroy you._

“You are dating my son.”

Furihata jumps and he blushes because this is so embarrassing. He wishes he was the kind of person who could act move naturally in situations like this. He always thought when he met Akashi’s father he could make a _good_ first impression. He really wanted to make a good first impression.

But _that man_ had asked him about Akashi too, and Furihata blushes now remembering the questions then. He’d sat in that office, scared of the man in front of him, and that man asked him questions about Akashi and sex and he felt sick and scared then and he felt sick and scared now despite how badly he’d wanted to make a good impression—

“Are you in love with him?”

For a second, Furihata thinks he’s imagining things, because that’s exactly the question _he_ asked and Furihata hadn’t know how to answer then, and he didn’t know how to answer now. (The answer is _yes_ , but what if the man didn’t want to hear that? What if it’s a trick? Furihata’s not entirely sure where he is anymore or who is asking the question).

Masaomi sighs and he starts writing something down. Then he pushes a piece of paper in front of Furihata, who stares down at it in deep confusion. “I will pay you five million yen to break up with Seijuurou.”

*

They weirdly end up in the same bar Masaomi had dragged Youji to just a few days before. It’s very off-putting.

“Don’t dance around this, Youji,” Michiru says after they sit down with their drinks. She leans in with a positively predatory gleam in her eyes. “I’ve been burned one too many times. Are you telling me you might actually have romantic feelings for Akashi Masaomi? And just so we’re super clear, when I say ‘romantic feelings,’ I am specifically talking about the ‘I would like to bone’ variety.”

Youji resists the urge to hide his face. He can’t quiet meet her gaze when he says, “Er. Yeah.”

Michiru makes this inhaling excited sound that’s vaguely reminiscent of a dolphin.

“Control yourself, woman, or I’m not talking about this with you.”

“I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOREVER FOR THIS, YOUJI.”

Youji raises his brows, takes a long sip of his beer, and stares at her pointedly.

“Fine, I’m cool. OK, you want to date Masaomi. How long has this been a thing?”

Youji winces, because hearing the phrase, “you want to date Masaomi” said out loud still sounds incredibly… _weird._ There’s something about Masaomi and “dating” that just doesn’t quite fit together in his mind. It’s also a difficult question for him to answer. He shrugs and says, “I guess… recently. Within the past couple of years.”

“ _Years,”_ Michiru exclaims.

“Things were—weird, between us, for awhile. And then the whole thing with the Miracles happened and it was kind of like old times again.”

“Years,” Michiru says again, and Youji continues to ignore her.

“And he’s weirdly kind of a good dad? I mean, not in general, I would not trust him with kids in general, but he and Seijuurou seem to understand one another and I—” he shrugs again, “kinda like that, I guess.”

“That’s what does it for you? Masaomi’s fucked up relationship with his kid?”

“I think it’s cute,” Youji says defensively.

“OK, I’m leaving that one alone for now. But don’t think I’m going to let you wiggle out of _years_. You mean you’ve been _aware_ that you wanted to date Masaomi for a couple years and you haven’t done anything?”

“Why did you stress ‘aware’ like that? I didn’t want to date him before.”

“Uh huh. Sure. Whatever. But come on, Youji. You’re single. Why haven’t you asked him out yet?”

“He’s heterosexual, Michiru,” Youji says, exasperated. “And I kept thinking maybe if I repressed my feelings long enough they’d _go away._ Falling in love with your heterosexual best friend is a terrible idea. I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules.”

Michiru straightens, looking indignant. “OK, first of all, I have never been a believer of Masaomi’s hypothetical heterosexuality—”

“Unfortunately, heterosexuality exists whether you choose to believe in it or not.”

“Debatable,” she waves this aside, “and _second_ of all, Youji, that man _loves_ you. You’re important to him, if you just _tell_ him, I’m sure—”

“No!” Youji bursts out, and he grabs her by the arm. “And _you can’t tell him._ Got it? You can’t even drop clues. I’m serious, Michiru. Masaomi can’t know.”

“Good lord, _why_?” Michiru gapes. “Even if he _is_ heterosexual, he wouldn’t think less of you. You’re so important to him—”

“I know,” Youji cuts in, tightening his jaw. “That’s why.”

Michiru leans back, crossing his arms, and looks at him patiently. That was the nice thing about Michiru. She understood when things were important, but she also didn’t let anything slide.

It _has_ been a very long time of trying to repress feelings that are refusing to be repressed. Youji sighs and looks away. “I know I’m important to him,” he says quietly. “And Masaomi is a little odd when it comes to the people he likes. I think—there’s so few people that Masaomi actually considers to be his friends—he doesn’t…. _react well_ , if he thinks he might lose them. He’d do anything, don’t you see? If he thought he might lose me as a friend, he might—” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Luckily, Michiru finishes it for him. “He’d _what?_ Sleep with you so that you stick around?” Youji flinches and Michiru just gapes at him. “Are you nuts? No sane heterosexual man would have sex with his male friend just to make sure he sticks around—actually, wait, I heard what I said there.” She frowns. “Yeah, OK. I can actually totally see Masaomi doing that.”

“Right?” Youji says, but it just comes out sounding tired. “If I tell him I like him, I’ll never be able to trust that he reciprocates.”

“So you’re just waiting for _him_ to ask you out?”

Youji shakes his head. “No, he’s not going to do that. He would have by now, if that was something he was interested in.”

“This is just— _ridiculous._ This is just stupidly ridiculous. You two belong together. Even your _wives_ thought you two had chemistry.”  

“I know,” Youji says dryly.

“I mean, we used to have _long_ debates about whether or not you guys had ever slept together, or whether or not you guys were aware that you were both completely in love with each other—”

“Who’s this _we?_ ” Youji asks, suspicion sinking in.

“Me, Setsuna, Hinami, Shiori—you know, the girls. We were all very invested in your love lives.”

“Hinami _was_ my love life,” Youji says, indignant. “And _she_ knew we’d never had sex with each other.”

“Oh, she said that. Setsuna was the one convinced you guys had a ‘lost your virginity with each other kind’ of vibe—”

Youji snorts. “Well, _that_ was way off.”

“ _I_ figured. I always had good money that you’d fucked _at least_ once. I was sure there was a casual fuckbuddies thing going on in your weird co-dependent college years.”

“And Shiori?” Youji asks, mildly curious by this insight into the lives of women.

“Shiori always said you two never had sex, and that you both knew you really wanted to, but you were both unaware of the fact the other wanted to as well. Hinami thought that was giving you two idiots way too much credit. She had money on you both being completely unaware that you even _wanted_ to have sex with the other one. Hinami didn’t have much faith in either of your abilities to be self-aware.”

“And no one thought we genuinely didn’t want to have sex with each other?” he asks, a tad despondently.

“Ha! Nope. No one believed _that_.” Michiru adjust her seat, leaning forward again. “OK, I see why you can’t tell him, but it is insane that you don’t do anything about this. I say, you both get drunk—”

“No,” Youji says abruptly.

“No, no, hear me out! You both get drunk, and you make a move. If he reciprocates, then you know he’s interested! If he doesn’t, you just laugh it off and blame the alcohol, and no one is wiser to any feelings that might be involved—”

“No,” Youji says again, his throat incredibly dry. “I’m not doing that.”

“Why not?” Michiru says, exasperated. “I’m not saying you should get him drunk and take advantage of him, just drunk enough that you can imitate—”

“Drop it Michiru.”

“ _Why?”_

“Because I _tried_ that once and it didn’t work. Believe me, he’s not interested.”

*

Furihata stares at the numbers and letters and the piece of paper in front of him, and he has no idea what they mean. It’s like he’s looking at some sort of foreign text; he can’t make the symbols on the page mean anything.

Slowly, slowly, his brain starts to process what’s happening.

_I will pay you five million yen to break up with Seijuurou._

It’s a check, Furihata’s brain finally catches up with reality and supplies useful information. It’s a check with his name on it for five million yen.

Despite this useful information, Furihata’s brain still isn’t fully understanding what’s happening. He looks up, almost desperately, at the man who has been staring at him this entire time. “What…?”

“It isn’t complicated, Furihata-kun,” Masaomi explains, almost sounding kind. “Break up with Seijuurou, and this money is yours. It’s a fair deal, surely you know high school relationships never last anyway. Or would you like more? I know how expensive college in these days.”

Furihata goes back to staring at the piece of paper in front of him, until he can’t see it anymore, because everything starts to get a little blurry.

_Oh. I’m crying._

_I’m not—_

_I’m not actually good enough for Akashi._

_I knew that._

_I did._

_I need to stop crying._

But the crying just gets worse, and he pushes away from the desk and runs out the door, utterly ashamed of his own reaction, but knowing that he couldn’t continue to sit there.

He runs all the way out of the base.

*

“You _what?”_ Michiru shrieks. “ _What? WHEN?”_

“A long time ago,” Youji says, biting down so hard his teeth hurt. “I got really drunk and I showed up on Masaomi’s door super drunk and I tried to convince him he should have sex with me. Fun fact, I have never let myself be drunk around Masaomi ever again.”

Michiru looks very much like a fish as she stares at him. Her mouth opens and shuts a couple of times, her eyes are wide and if she keeps making aborted sounds in her mouth as she tries and fails to communicated. “How am I _just_ hearing about this?” she demands finally.

Youji looks away again. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t a good time for me, OK? And you weren’t talking to me at the time.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Michiru says, and now she just looks stricken, because of course she knows what time he’s talking about. “That long…” she trails off, thinking through the implications. When she talks again, her voice is much more careful and controlled. “Youji…if it was _that_ time, and you were drunk and he wasn’t…I got to say it’s actually a really good thing Masaomi turned you down…”

“I know,” Youji says quickly. “It was—it was one of the kindest things Masaomi has _ever_ done for me. If we had—or if I’d gone out and slept with someone else—I don’t think I could have recovered from that. I would have hated myself forever. I might have resented _him_ for it, and we might not have ever recovered from that and I’m—I’m really, _really_ glad that night didn’t go as drunkenly planned. That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“The point is _we never talked about it after,_ ” Youji swallows, surprised by his own hurt at the rejection. It’s been years after that humiliating debacle, you’d think that would mean it wouldn’t sting so much. “Michiru—he _never_ brought it up again. And you know Masaomi! He _would_ have! He’d laugh about it later, he’d mock me for it later, he’d tease—if it was even remotely something that intrigued him, he _would_ have made a move. But he didn’t. It must have—” Youji swallows again, the lump in his throat hurting. “It must have _really_ upset him.”

He has spent more hours of his life than he reasonably should have trying to come up with some explanation for Masaomi’s out-of-character silence on the matter. The _only_ conclusion that made sense was that Masaomi deeply did not reciprocate the feelings and was hoping they could pretend the whole thing never happened.

So Youji did his best to pretend the whole thing never happened.

There is a long silence as Michiru thinks through all of this. Then she glares at him. “I am so mad at you for not letting me enjoy this more.”

“I’m sorry my love life is not up to your fangirl standards,” Youji replies.

“Because you _should_ be with him. This is just stupid. And if anyone deserves to pine, it should be _him._ He should be manfully pining after you!”

“If there was any justice in this world, he would be,” Youji agrees. “But I am fairly certain Masaomi has never pined after anything in his life. His whole life philosophy is pretty much, ‘If I want it, then it should be mine.’”

“Yeah, he’s kind of a dick,” Michiru says. “You’re actually way better off without him. So this returns us full circle back to my original point—can I please just set you up with some other guy?”

“I—I can’t—it’s not that easy—”

“Sure it is! Listen, nothing helps you get over a man faster than random sex with strangers. When you were busy repressing your feelings did you even try to have sex with other people?”

Youji winces again because Michiru really doesn’t know how to pull any punches. “No, actually. If I had sex with someone else, I’d just be thinking about Masaomi—”

“So?” Michiru demands. “You can’t tell me you’ve _never_ thought of someone else while having sex with a different person.”

“As a point of interest, yes, I can tell you that, because I never have. I’ve made a point not to. That’s just rude to the person you’re having sex with.”

“Everyone does that!” Michiru shouts. “Oh my God, Youji. _Everyone_ does that. _Married_ couples do that. _I_ do that.”

“I don’t,” Youji insists.

Michiru suddenly looks _very_ horrified. “Youji…when was the last time you had sex?”

“Last night,” he says promptly.

She raises a brow. “With someone other than yourself?”

“…Longer than that,” Youji says.

“ _Youji._ ”

“A very long time, OK?” he snaps.

“That isn’t even _healthy._ You—OK, I’m setting you up with someone, you no longer get a say in this.”

_“Michiru_ —”

“Just _dating_ , OK? I’m not going to _make_ you have sex. Although, I am tempted to buy you a hooker. But you need to _date_ again, and you need to date someone who isn’t Masaomi. And _God,_ so what if you do end up comparing them at first? I can literally think of hundreds of ways in which that comparison could really only be in that other guy’s favor—”

A phone rings, interrupting Youji before he could protest this claim. He looks down at his cellphone. “It’s Masaomi.”

“Let it ring, we’re beginning the long process of you moving on.”

“No, it’s probably important. Hang on, sorry.” He gestures apologetically and moves outside to the patio where Michiru can’t overhear them before picking up.

“He started crying!” Masaomi wails.

“Oh God, Masaomi, what did you _do_?”

“I panicked! Youji, how dare you spring that on me! I needed to _prepare_ for something that important!”

“You were the one who kept insisting you’d ‘lose’ if you met him on your own! This way it was fair!”

“Well, I’m pretty sure him _crying_ means I’ve lost all the points forever.”

“What did you—oh, _Masaomi._ Tell me you didn’t.”

“I certainly wish I could tell you that, but, all things considered, I probably did.”

Youji hisses into his phone, “Did you do that thing where you offered him money to break up with Seijuurou?”

“Er.”

“Masaomi!”

“I told you I panicked!” He sounds genuinely flustered. Youji actually can’t recall the last time Masaomi has ever panicked over anything.

“I can’t believe you’re still _doing_ that. I thought you stopped after what happened with Setsuna.”

“No, the last time I—wait, you think—anyway, that’s not important! I have always maintained that it’s a good litmus test for the stability of a relationship and a person’s character—”

“Oh, _shove_ your litmus test!”

“I didn’t expect him to _cry_! No one has ever _cried_ before!”

“He is a seventeen-year-old boy and the father of the guy he’s dating just told him he wasn’t good enough for his son! Of course he started crying!”

“Well, if you put it like _that,_ ” Masaomi says, defensively. “Do you think he was faking? It would have been an amazing ploy if he was faking.”

“No, Masa-chan. I don’t think he was faking. I think you made him cry and I am never trusting you alone with anyone ever again.”

“Guh. I would have respected him if he _was_ faking. I hate genuine people.”

Youji pauses to consider this. All things considered, that wasn’t true. Masaomi would have known how to handle someone who was faking, but he wouldn’t necessarily respect them. He just never did know how to handle people who were genuine.

“Does this fiasco at least prove to you that Furihata-kun is in that relationship of his own free will?”

“No!” Masaomi says. “Crying is inconclusive! I get nothing from crying! There could have been a dozen reasons why he was crying—”

“The father of the guy he loves trying to bribe him out of his relationship seems like the most obvious conclusion to me—”

“You weren’t there—which, by the way, not cool—the kid seemed terrified.”

“Well, yeah. You’re scary.”

“If he’s scared of _me_ then I have no idea how he’s dating _Seijuurou._ I’m at least _nice_ to people 90% of the time.”

Youji had to admit there’s some logic to that.

“Anyway, you have to help me fix this.”

“I was _trying_ to help you, and you made a teenager cry.”

“Which is still all your fault, so—”

“ _My_ fault—”

“—so _help_ me!”

“I’ll help you, I’ll help you. What exactly am I helping you with?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Masaomi says. “But when I do, I’m claiming you and your first born child.”

“What are you? A fairy tale witch?”

“Oh, _huh._ That’s an idea.”

“What’s an idea?” Youji says, growing very alarmed. “I was joking, _what’s_ an idea—”

“No time, I need to plan. Remember, you promised you’d help! No take backs!’

Masaomi hangs up before Youji can say, “ _What’s_ an idea” again and Youji is genuinely terrified Masaomi might kidnap a child.

He’s also _a little_ alarmed at Masaomi’s insistence that he’d also require Youji’s first born child. Youji can’t help but think Masaomi meant that literally.

*

Youji returns and immediately bangs his head on the table.

“And how is your Romeo?” Michiru asks dryly.

Youji lifts up his head. “Yeah, OK. Set me up with someone.”

“Really?” Michiru says, perking up. “You mean that?”

“Yes, you’re right. I’m in love with an idiot. Set me up with someone. Set me up with _all_ the people you can think of, I need to date again.”

“That’s the spirit!” Michiru says, slapping him on the back. “Although, good lord, what did he do this time?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Fair enough. Although, I feel the need to point out, he’s _your_ friend. I never understood your whole college thing. It was always weird.”

“You had to be there,” Youji says.

“You’re not allowed to change your mind,” Michiru warns.

Youji thinks on this and says, “I won’t. I need to date again.”

“Hallelujah,” Michiru says. “How does next Friday sound?”

_Too soon,_ but Youji suspects that’s her plan. So he just shrugs and says, “Yeah, OK. Why not?”

This thing with Masaomi is way too intense anyway.

It always had been.


	2. Chapter 2 ~Then~

Akashi Masaomi bounds down the stairs of his penthouse apartment and immediately calls out to his roommate. “Youji! Youji, I need you to go on a double date with me!”

“Pass,” Youji says, not looking up from the TV.

“OK, let me rephrase. You _are_ going on a double-date with me, and it starts in a couple hours, so go put on something presentable.”

“Still pass,” Youji says.

“ _Youji,_ ” Masaomi whines, perching on the couch, and tugging at his friend’s arm. “I met the most amazing woman. She’s a business major and _stacked._ You know how much I love business majors. And breasts.”

“ _Guh,_ even more no,” Youji says, finally looking at him. “I am not spending _another_ evening listening to you and some woman talk about stock options and free market like it’s some kind of foreplay.”

“You won’t have to,” Masaomi says patiently, because Youji could not possibly appreciate that verbally sparring about the free market is a very sexy prelude to tearing each other’s clothes off. “She has a friend, and she said I needed to bring a date for this friend, and that’s where _you_ come in—”

“No,” Youji says stubbornly. “You know—”

Masaomi groans, “Do not say you’re going to marry Hinami-senpai.”

“I’m going to marry Hinami-senpai,” Youji says.

“No, you’re not. Now get up. Put on a clean shirt, at least. You don’t have to brush your hair, some chicks dig the unkempt look.”

“I _am_ going to marry Senpai,” Youji insists, “and she’s the only person I want to date.”

“Ugh, you’re delusional, and I do not have time to talk you out of your delusions _again._ Fine, you don’t need to date this woman, just go meet her, OK?”

“If all you need is a warm body, go get one of your lackeys,” Youji says, disgusted. “There are literally dozens of people who would _love_ to go on a double-date with Akashi Masaomi.”

“True,” Masaomi allows, because he is very popular around campus and all kinds of people try to curry favors. He flashes Youji his most winning smile. “But she very specifically said I should bring a _friend._ And I only have one of those.”

Youji groans and turns off the television. “ _Fine,_ you monster. But I hate it when you use that against me.”

“Yes!” Masaomi cheers. “FYI,  I was lying about the hair. Go brush your hair, you look like a lumberjack.”

Youji makes a rude gesture with his hands but heads to the bathroom.

*

“It’s about survival of the fittest,” Natori Keiko says. “You _have_ to be ruthless.”

“Oh, naturally,” Masaomi says, slightly amused by her generic assessment but fairly certain this was going in a sexy direction, so that’s all he cares about. “So you want to run your own business someday?”

“I want to win,” Keiko says, her voice a purr. “I like being on top.”

“ _Do_ you?” Masaomi says, now _very_ pleased with the direction this night is going. “Well, then—”

“—Kasamatsu-senpai is just the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met, so—”

Masaomi whirls on his friend, horrified. “Are you talking about Kasamatsu Hinami _on your date?_ ”

“Of course I am,” Youji says, “I had to explain why this wasn’t a date, didn’t I?”

Masaomi continues to stare at him in horror. “I cannot believe you would be so uncouth as to talk about _another woman_ on your first date. Miss,” he turns to Youji’s date, “I sincerely apologize for my friend’s boorish behavior. He was raised by wolves, but that’s no excuse. I expected him to behave better than this.”

“I didn’t mind,” Youji’s date smiles prettily, and it’s the first time Masaomi actually looks at her (the majority of his time has been fascinated by Keiko’s stockings, her red lipstick, and the fact that he suspects she is not wearing a bra). The woman is actually very pretty, in a classic way, and he hadn’t expected that, considering she was supposed to be the plain friend who needed a pity date. She has light brown hair and dark brown eyes and dimples. “I’m actually a fan of Kasamatsu-senpai myself, so I liked hearing Yamazaki-san talk about her. I think his devotion is quite admirable.”

Masaomi gapes at her, genuinely struck speechless, before turning to Youji and saying, “OK, clearly you need to marry _this_ girl. This girl is obviously your soul mate.”

“I am going to marry Kasamatsu-senpai,” Youji says. He always switched to calling her “Kasamatsu” when they were in public, leaving the simpering use of her first name for when it was just the two of them.

“No, you’re not. He’s not,” he adds to the woman he has now dubbed Youji’s Future Wife. “Do you want to know why? Because she hates him.”

“Dislikes,” Youji defends, “strongly dislikes. Only because she doesn’t know me.”

“And has shown no interest in _getting_ to know you, since she has rejected you many, many times.”

“Only _technically_ —”

“More than just technically. She threw coffee on you that one time.”

“It was iced coffee! And I deserved it.”

“She punched you in the face when you first met.”

“I deserved it then too,” Youji insists.

“She will walk the other direction if she sees you coming.”

“Actually, she only does that if you’re around, she really hates you—”

“ _And_ she once said she wouldn’t have sex with you if you were the last man on earth and you needed to repopulate the species. Youji, she would literally let humankind go extinct rather than touch your dick.”

“Don’t make my feelings for her sound so crass. I wouldn’t want her to in that situation anyway, I would never want her to feel obligated.”

“Youji,” Masaomi starts losing the last of his patience with this, “you know I love you, right?”

“Yes, Masa-chan.”

“You’re like—you’re like an extension of myself, which is the very highest form of love I can give, because I love myself so much.”

“I love you too, Masa-chan.”

“And you know I _don’t_ like Kasamatsu, right?”

“Yes, Masa-chan. You hate her morals.”

“So moralistic! _God,_ it is disgusting how obnoxious she is with her do-gooder routine. It genuinely makes me want to hurl.”

“You’ve said, Masa-chan.”

“So I want you to take that context—my love for you and my loathing for her—to give full weight to what I’m about to say to you: you need to leave that poor woman alone. I’m starting to feel _really_ bad for her. Your obsession is creepy and you have to stop stalking her.”

“I’m not _stalking_ her!” Youji yelps.

“Where’s Hinami, Youji?” Masaomi queries.

“What?”

Masaomi looks at his wristwatch and spreads his arms wide. “It’s 6:45 on a Tuesday evening. Where is Kasamatsu Hinami?”

“I—you—look, she has a very routine schedule, OK? Just because I _happen_ to know she works from 4:30-8 at the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays, doesn’t mean I’m _stalking_ her.”

“Let’s get a consensus. Future Wife?” He turns to Youji’s date.

Future Wife frowns at Youji and says, “It’s…not _great_ that you know that.”

“Thank you!” Masaomi crows as Youji pouts. “You _can_ marry him, I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you, Akashi-san,” the woman murmurs. “I take that as a compliment, but I’m not interested in marrying a man who is in love with someone else.”

“No, no, he is very sensible, beyond the Kasamatsu obsession. He’ll make a good husband,” he reassures her.

“Kasamatsu is a self-righteous cow,” Keiko declares.

“Thank you!” Masaomi says, beaming at his own date. He _knew_ he liked her for a reason.

Youji pulls back, like an offended cat, and glares at Masaomi in a way that clearly says, _Where did you find_ this _one?_ Youji tends to think that not liking Kasamatsu Hinami is a huge character flaw.

“Kasamatsu-senpai is very kind,” Youji’s Future Wife says in cool tones, causing Masaomi to glance back at her. She clearly didn’t like what her friend said any more than Youji did. “Awhile back there was a flasher who was stalking the First Year girls who had evening classes and Kasamatsu-senpai volunteered to walk people home so they did not have to walk alone.”

“Oh, _god,_ ” Masaomi says, gagging.

“She’s so amazing,” Youji says, dreamy-eyed.

“That, that is _exactly_ what I’m talking about. What did Little Miss Superman think she could do anyway?” Masaomi demands.

“I heard she punched the man in the throat and then dragged him to campus police, when he finally flashed someone she was walking home,” Future Wife says pertly and she continues to smile enigmatically, “but most girls who didn’t have anyone else to walk home with just appreciated the company.”

“Ugh,” Masaomi says, shuddering.

“She’s just the best,” Youji sighs at the same time Keiko says, “What a nosy busy-body.”

“This only proves that you and Youji are perfect for each other,” Masaomi tells the girl. “You can marry, talk about Kasamatsu Hinami all day long, have a million children, and sigh about her eyes.”

“She has the prettiest eyes,” Youji says, lost in a dream land of his own making.

“I see you have very strong feelings about this, Akashi-san.”

“Please, you’re my best friend’s future wife, you should call me Masaomi. Sorry, I forgot your name—?”

“Nakahara,” she says, still smiling like it didn’t bother her all that much that he forgot her name. “Nakahara Shiori.”

*

Because Masaomi’s own budding romance is going amazingly well, it takes him awhile to notice that Youji isn’t lounging about woefully on the couch all day fantasizing about being Kasamatsu Hinami’s love slave.

“Where are you going?” he asks, craning his head as he sees Youji about to head out the door.

“To hang out with Shiori,” Youji replies.

“To hang out with Shiori,” Masaomi repeats, not placing the name right away. Then he remembers the double-date. “You mean you’re actually _dating?_ ”

“No,” Youji says resolutely. “We’re just hanging out. She’s my friend.”

“ _Friend,_ ” Masaomi says, indignantly. “Since when?”

“Since I decided she needed more friends. Her only friend is kind of a bitch.”

“What are you talking about? She’s friends with my girlfriend.”

“Yes. That was my point.”

“Ahahaha, I see what you did there. Asshole. But _you_ don’t need more friends, why are you getting other friends?”

“I like talking to her,” Youji shrugs. “I can talk about stuff with her that I can’t talk about with you.”

“Like what?” Masaomi demands. “You can talk to me about—oh, you mean _Kasamatsu._ You two actually sit around and talk about Kasamatsu Hinami?”

“It’s a little nice to talk to someone about my feelings without being yelled at and accused of being a stalker,” Youji says stiffly.

“You _are_ a—and _feelings_ —god, you’re such a woman. Fine, go, talk to your heart’s content.”

“Fine, I will!” Youji shouts back, slamming the door.

“Fine!” Masaomi shouts back, sure that Youji will still hear him. “And when you marry Shiori, I’m going to say I told you so!”

But Youji is out the door, and can’t reply, so Masaomi just flops down on the couch disgustedly. Youji’s Hinami-obsession was amusing at first, then profoundly irritating, and now it’s moved on to incredibly alarming, and he’s beginning to think he needs to do something about this before his friend gets arrested for stalking.

*

Nakahara Shiori watches the man in front of her and tries to figure him out. Both Yamazaki Youji and Akashi Masaomi are legendary around campus, and she’d been aware of them ever since the start of the year. She hadn’t expected to meet either of them—there was something rather mysterious and otherworldly about both of them and they weren’t the kind of people you expected to _meet._

It was strange to see them interact with each other during their double date, and stranger still to talk to Yamazaki Youji afterwards. He’s still a mystery, and Shiori likes that.

“Is something upsetting you, Youji-san?” He insisted she call him by his first name and it hadn’t taken her long to figure out it was because he really hated being called by his family name.

“What makes you say that, Shiori-san?” He smiles, and it’s a very charming, curious smile, that doesn’t quite match his eyes.

“You seem bothered, that’s all,” Shiori replies, ready to drop the issue entirely.

He shrugs—an affable gesture. “Masa-chan was being a dick about Kasamatsu-senpai, that’s all.”

And _that’s_ one of the things Shiori finds most fascinating about Youji—his declaration of love for Kasamatsu Hinami. It’s why she agreed to meet with him again and again, trying to understand the mystery.

Both Youji and Masaomi have a dangerous air about them, but the rumors around Youji are particularly brutal. They called him _Akashi Masaomi’s wolf_. She heard he almost killed a man last year. Despite that, he is incredibly good-looking, though it’s hard to pin down why. His thick eyebrows make him an unlikely heartthrob, but he has good cheekbones and a charming smile and all the girls agree he is ‘very sexy.’ Shiori knows of at least seven different women who are infatuated with Youji and would absolutely be his girlfriend.

But he likes Kasamatsu Hinami.

What’s more, he is very vocal about his decision that if he isn’t dating Hinami, then he won’t date anyone.

“Did she really hit you when you first met?” Shiori asks.

“She did,” Youji laughs, his eyes brightening the way they always do whenever he talks about Hinami. “I totally deserved it, though. I was being a patronizing jerk, and I’m _really_ sorry about that. I wish I’d behaved better.”

“Youji-san,” Shiori starts carefully, because she doesn’t want to scare him away, but she _does_ feel like it needs to be said, “if she really has rejected you that many times, it _is_ a little distasteful to keep pursuing her. Shouldn’t you respect her wishes?”

“But that’s just it!” Youji moves, lively and not at all dismayed like Shiori thought he would be after the question. “She _hasn’t_ rejected me. I mean, not _exactly._ ”’

“Did she really throw coffee on you?”

“Iced! It was iced coffee. And I’m not explaining this properly.” He frowns thoughtfully as he thinks through things. “I don’t think she _believes_ me.”

Shiori tilts her head, waiting for him to continue. He takes the invitation and says, “I get the impression she thinks I just want to get into her pants. And don’t get me wrong!” He presses a hand to his heart, “I would very much would like to be in those pants. But I have the utmost respect for her pants. I want to date her and then marry her and be the father of her seven daughters.”

“No sons?” Shiori queries, because she has heard many men flat out say they wouldn’t be able to have an emotional connection with their kids if they had daughters. Many men, in her experience, felt incomplete without a son.

“Absolutely not,” Youji shudders. “Boys are the worst. I want seven girls and I want them all to look like Kasamatsu-senpai. She can work and I’ll take care of the house. I’m a decent cook and I’m pretty good with kids.”

“That’s…certainly a very thorough future you have imagined.”

“But she doesn’t _believe_ me,” Youji says, a tad piteously. “That’s why I keep asking. If she believed my feelings were genuine, properly considered what I was offering, and still rejected me, then I wouldn’t pursue the issue.” His face falls as he considers this dark path of his future. “And die miserable and alone, probably. But I would respect her decision!”

What an odd man. Shiori actually thinks he means it.

His taste is…unexpected. Kasamatsu Hinami is a tall, no-nonsense woman who tends to scare men away after she beats them in arm wrestling competitions. While not unattractive, there’s nothing about her that would really catch anyone’s attention. She is another mystery to Shiori, because Hinami seems to genuinely care about doing the _right_ thing. She cares about _people_ , even if they treat her badly and don’t deserve her help. Shiori likes her, even though she doesn’t know her. There is a small part of her that desperately wishes Hinami would be her friend.

Maybe that’s why she’s here, talking to Yamazaki Youji. What a strange thing to think that maybe they are the same kind of person. Maybe they both like Himani for the same reason.

“Akashi-san disapproves of her?” she asks, returning to the original point.

Youji huffs out a small laugh. “He just thinks I don’t have a chance with her. He doesn’t dislike her.”

“No?”

“I think in his own way he respects her a lot,” Youji says thoughtfully. “There aren’t a lot of people who stand up to him.”

“He just prefers people with looser morals?”

Youji shakes his head. “No, that’s what he says, but—I think he actually has a lot of contempt for people who resort to cruelty and manipulation.”

“Really?” Shiori says, because that’s the exact opposite of what everyone knows about Akashi Masaomi. If even _half_ the rumors are true about him, he would be the kind of person who is quite comfortable with manipulation and cruelty. “In which case, I am not sure what he is doing with Keiko-san. She was trying to impress him with her cold heart.”

Youji laughs. “Man, she’s a bitch. Why are you friends with her?”

“I’m not, really,” Shiori says.

Youji tilts his head and says, “Then why did she insist Masa-chan needed to bring a date for you?”

It’s Shiori’s turn to laugh, and she’s feeling a little wicked so she decides she’ll explain. “Oh, _that’s_ because she was hoping Akashi-san would bring _you._ ”

“Me?” Youji repeats. “She wasn’t interested in me.”

“No, she wanted to win the bet,” Shiori says, smiling. “You see, among a certain group of young ladies, there is competition to see who can be the first to sleep with both you and Akashi-san.”

“Er,” Youji says, “I’m, uh, pretty sure that’s happened already? We’ve, uh, definitely slept with the same girl before.”

Shiori laughs, filing away _that_ information and also finding it kind of endearing that he hadn’t immediately understood. “No, no, I mean, they want to sleep with both of you at the same time.”

“What?” Youji exclaims. “You’re joking. Women don’t want that sort of thing.”

Shiori smiles again, feeling more amused than she has in a long time. “Certain women do. There are some women who find the idea very appealing.”

“ _Huh,_ ” Youji says, thinking this through. Then he shrugs. “Well, they’re out of luck on that one, then. Masa-chan is far too heterosexual to agree.”

Shiori raises a brow, noting the absence in that sentence. “And you?”

Youji grins. “Decidedly less heterosexual. But I’m committed to Kasamatsu-senpai. And I somehow don’t see _that_ combination happening any time soon. I can’t imagine Senpai ever agreeing to sleep with Masa-chan.” His face falls and he glumly adds, “I can’t really see her agreeing to sleep with _me_ either _,_ but I can hope.”

“Yes, you can,” Shiori says thoughtfully.

He smiles up at her through lashes that on another man might seem feminine, and Shiori once again understands why he’s such a heartthrob across campus. “I like you, Shiori-san. You should hang out with me and Masa-chan sometime.”

He probably doesn’t know what an elusive and enviable invitation that is. Or perhaps he does. Either way, getting involved with those two—even in a platonic capacity—would most likely make her the enemy of everyone on campus. “I am not sure that is such a good idea. Akashi-san would not like it,” she demurs.

“I’m sure he’d be fine with it. Masa-chan is a good guy.”

Which is _also_ an odd statement, made stranger by the fact that he said it without a shred of irony. If even a _tenth_ of the stuff people said about Akashi Masaomi is true, there are not too many people who could declare him a “good guy” with a straight face.

“Perhaps some time,” Shiori answers neutrally, sure that it is very unlikely she will ever spend more time in Masaomi’s company.

*

“What an obscenely large apartment,” Shiori remarks.

She tells herself it was just her curiosity to see the inside of the legendary penthouse of Masaomi and Youji, and that’s why she’s here.

But now she’s in Youji’s (very large bedroom) and looking at all of his things and marveling slightly at how much money went into this room alone.

“Your sheets are so soft,” she says, stroking the bed she’s sitting on. (Youji’s sitting on the floor). “What’s the thread count?”

“1,000,” Youji snorts, “Masa-chan refuses to sleep in anything that’s less than 1,000.”

Shiori raises her eyebrows. “But you said this was your bedroom.”

Youji looks up, startled. “Right. I mean, he buys the sheets. It’s his house, he—just buys everything.” But he blushes faintly and rubs his face and then says, “It’s not what you think.”

“Of course not,” she says smoothly. “Although, I feel the need to point out, there are quite a few people on campus who are convinced you two are sleeping together.”

“We’re not,” Youji says.

“I believe you,” Shiori says truthfully. “I was just explaining to you what the commonfolk think. I imagine rich people follow different rules with their eccentricities.”

“I’m not sure you can use Masaomi as a standard for the rich,” Youji says.

“I was referring to both of you,” Shiori says.

“What? I’m not rich.”

Shiori stares at him in pointed disbelief.

“I’m not! Why would you think that?”

“You live in a penthouse?” Shiori asks, confused. Sometimes the well-off tended to have different standards for what is considered “rich,” but Youji seemed more down-to-earth than that. “You wear designer clothes, all your stuff is high-end brand name?” she gestures to his room. “I can point to a dozen different things in this room that must have been _at least_ a million yen each. I’m pretty sure that’s an original Picasso hanging on your wall next to your basketball poster.”

“Masa-chan bought it all?” Youji says, sounding just as confused as Shiori feels. “It’s all Masa-chan’s money.”

“He—” Shiori starts and stops. “He buys your things.” In an odd tone, she adds, “ _All_ your things?”

“Err. Yes. I’m guessing by your tone, that’s unusual?”

“A bit. Unless you _are_ his mistress. But we have already established that you are not,” Shiori says, smiling.

“Hm. I’ll have to adjust,” Youji says. “Anyway, we should head out if we still want to catch the movie.”

As they head out, Shiori again says, “It really is an obscenely large house.”

“It’s not as big as my home in Kyoto,” Masaomi says, when they round the corner to see him lounging on the couch. He says it with a casual shrug that would drive most people insane. “Or my summer home in New York, or my flat in—”

“Shut up, Masa-chan,” Youji interrupts. “No one wants to hear you brag about how rich you are.”

“Just saying,” Masaomi says with an unapologetic grin.

“Ignore him, Shi-chan,” Youji says. Masaomi fixes his attention back to her. “Shoot, I forgot my wallet. You, be nice to her,” he orders Masaomi before ducking back to his room.

“Your home is very impressive, Akashi-san,” Shiori says.

“Nakahara Shiori,” Masaomi says, and her name is like a purr in his throat. He smiles at her like he’s holding a gun. “They say such interesting things about you.”

She doesn't quite know how to talk to this man yet. Up close, she is surprised by how young he looks, like one of the boys who went to high school with her. (Which, if the rumors are true, would be accurate. Masaomi supposedly skipped a few grades, and by all accounts, should still be in high school.)

“I am sure,” she says carefully. “But it is nothing compared to what they say about you.”

“Similar enough, I imagine. People don’t like you, do they? At least, girls don’t.”

Oh, he _is_ an unpleasant man. “I am sure I don’t know what you mean, Akashi-san. Although, considering what your ex-girlfriends say about _you,_ I would not throw stones. Is it true you never sleep next to someone, even after intercourse?”

“Of course not, sleeping with people is an invitation to get killed in your sleep.”

“That’s… a rather paranoid and somewhat sad way of thinking, Akashi-san.”

“Not really. Too many people have tried to kill me.” He grins like a shark, and Shiori finds that she believes him. It’s still rather sad.

“But enough about me, let’s talk about you. Youji told me you weren’t sleeping together. I have to ask—is it because he isn’t married?”

She smiles because it’s easier to smile. “If you must know, I offered on our second date, but he is quite devoted to Kasamatsu-senpai.”

“Hmm. Pity. I was hoping I could bribe you into seducing my friend.”

“If it is so important to you, then you should seduce him yourself,” Shiori says graciously.

“It wouldn’t work, I am not a pretty woman,” Masaomi quips.

“Why should that matter to Youji-san?” Shiori returns.

Masaomi blinks. “He told you?” But before she can respond, Youji comes down the stairs and Masaomi demands, “You told her you were bisexual? You’ve only known her for like, two weeks!”

“So?” Youji says, frowning.

“So you didn’t tell _me_ for six months into us _living_ together!”

Shiori looks down, so that Masaomi will not see her lips twitch. He suddenly sounds so _young_ and indignant.

“The timing of when I tell people after knowing them is not a measurable reflection of anything,” Youji says, his voice mild.

“Yes it is!” Masaomi flails. “In fact, you _never_ even told me!”

“Uh, yeah I did? That’s why you know?”

“No, I know because last year I walked in on you having sex with our history professor in our kitchen!”

“That was me telling you! I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of this.”

“Which history professor?” Shiori asks out loud, and both men look at her. “There’s only two male First Year history professors, and one is married and the other is a million years old, so I was wondering.”

“The married one,” Youji says, a tad apologetically.

“Really? Fascinating.”

“He was still old enough to be your father,” Masaomi says darkly.

“He’s forty-five, and _fit,_ ” Youji says.

“Agreed, he is quite the heartthrob. I know many girls who have a crush on him and try to flirt with him,” Shiori supplies, “although I suppose the mystery clears up as to why he never hooked up with any of them.”

“Why, did you try?” Masaomi says, sounding wrathful and petty.

“Not my type,” Shiori smiles. “But I commend your choice, Youji-san.”

“Eh, don’t, he was noooot that great.”

“Do you like her better than me?” Masaomi demands, jabbing an accusatory finger in Shiori’s direction, which she stares at and tries not to smile.

“No, Masa-chan, you’re still my favorite,” Youji says, the fondness in his voice underlying the amusement makes it clear he’s telling the truth.

“ _Really?”_

“If I got you a trophy engraved with ‘Youji’s Number One Friend’ would that make you feel better?”

“Maybe,” Masaomi sulks, and he glances back to Shiori, as if to check and see if she’s offended by Youji’s reassurances.

“Youji-san talks about you all the time,” Shiori soothes.

This only makes Masaomi scowl more—he was expecting a battle and it bothers him that she didn’t give him one.

“Come out with us to dinner,” Youji offers.

She expects him to say no, which is why it’s not actually all that surprising when he says, “Fine, then I will.” Masaomi is not the kind of person who does what’s expected.

*

Watching Masaomi direct the conversation is fascinating. Watching Masaomi interact with Youji is fascinating too, but for different reasons.

It’s easy to see why Masaomi has so many admirers around campus—he can be very charming. He’s trying to charm _her,_ and it’s a powerful force. He has a way of making people feel at ease, confident that he must like them. _Charisma_ , she thinks. That’s what it is.

“—that’s a _lie,_ Youji, you malign me in front of this pretty young lady,” Masaomi says.

“I would never, and Shi-chan should know what kind of person you are. He regularly makes grown men cry. Usually when they’re offering him jobs. What was that last company that tried to recruit you? Teikoku or whatever?”

“Who knows, I never pay attention to those kinds of things,” Masaomi dismisses. “They had non-disclosure contracts up the _ass_ and I promptly lost interest. If I can’t have my name all over it, then what is even the point, I ask you.”

“Very valid point,” Shiori murmurs. “You do have many inventions with your name on it, Akashi-san. It is very strange that you even still need to go to college.”

“That is weird,” Youji frowns, “you probably don’t need a college degree, Masa-chan.”

Shiori hides a smile behind her glass and Masaomi pointedly doesn’t look at her when he says, “Nonsense, how else would I meet so many age appropriate women? It’s why I’m a liberal arts major.”

When Youji excuses himself from the table she watches Masaomi shift as he looks back to her, all previous friendliness dropping. “I can’t quite figure you out, Nakahara.”

“I’m flattered,” she says. “How is Keiko-san?”

“I have no idea, I broke up with her yesterday,” Masaomi says carelessly. But then he snorts. “Oh, you knew that. Why ask?”

“I was trying to make polite conversation, Akashi-san.”

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty for breaking up with your friend?”

“Not at all, I am not surprised your relationship did not work out.”

“Do tell,” Masaomi says, faintly amused.

“You competed with her too much,” Shiori says. “That is not a good basis for a relationship.”

Masaomi laughs and she can almost hear the sneer in his voice when he says, “ _That’s_ your logic? I compete in _every_ relationship. I like it.” Shiori just smiles politely, because she knows that he’ll understand she doesn’t believe him. He shifts in his seat, looking more relaxed.

“Listen, I compete with my girlfriends, because I like worthy opponents. When my parents were alive, I competed with them; when I have children I’ll compete with them too, because they’ll need to meet my expectations for excellence. I compete with every person I meet because that’s the best way to ensure you come out on top of every encounter.”

“You don’t compete with Youji-san.”

He’s intrigued and guarded, because right now he still thinks he’s competing with _her,_ but Shiori has no interest in that. “The exception, I’ll grant you.” Masaomi says, once again surprising her. She didn’t expect him to admit it. “But we were talking about my relationships, and how I compete with everyone. Therefore, anyone I date is a potential opponent.”

“Unless you date Youji-san,” Shiori points out.

“Ha! What are you, one of those fangirls? You like reading yaoi and pairing anime bishounen together?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Shiori says with zero shame. “But that has no bearing on the fact that I think you should date Youji-san.”

Masaomi pauses and then says, “You know, this is a weird experience for me. I came to this dinner to try and convince _you_ to date Youji.”

“I know,” Shiori says. “You’re worried about him.”

Despite the fact that they’ve been conversing for awhile now, Shiori thinks this is the first time Masaomi has actually _looked_ at her. Like he was seeing her for the first time and re-assessing her. She suspects he hasn’t quite forgiven her for bringing up the fact that he doesn’t _need_ to attend college, even if she was just confirming her suspicion that Youji didn’t know this about Masaomi. She’s not sure what it means that Masaomi hasn’t told his friend he already has three doctorates, but she can’t help but feel like needling him a little.

“Youji-san mentioned that you buy him everything,” Shiori continues with a smile. “That all of the very expensive things that he owns were paid for by you.”

“Let me guess, that made you wonder what our relationship is,” Masaomi says, mocking.

“Not at all,” Shiori demurs, “it made me wonder why Youji-san didn’t have any things before he met you.”

There is another long pause, and she can tell that she once again impressed him.

“You’re surprisingly interesting,” Masaomi says.

“Thank you,” Shiori says.

“I _do_ want you to marry Youji. You’d make a much better wife than the one he’s picked for himself.”

“Thank you,” she says again. “I suspect that is actually the highest compliment _you_ could give a woman.”

Masaomi gives her that _look_ again, but Youji returns to their table, so he drops the subject.

*

“You were gone _forever,_ ” Masaomi says after Shiori goes home. “Were you doing that on purpose?”

“I wanted you two to have the chance to get to know each other,” Youji says, not bothering to deny it. “I think you’d get along. I think you could even be friends.”

“I don’t need any more friends,” Masaomi says, but his disavowal lacks its usual vehemence. Masaomi looks up at the sky, as if he is trying to read the stars, and then he turns to Youji abruptly. “Why do you _like_ her?”

Masaomi very rarely asked questions directly. It takes him awhile to build up to it, especially if it’s something he really wants to know. Youji isn’t sure what it means that he asks the question so abruptly now. He wonders if Masaomi still feels threatened—Youji has never brought anyone to their house before and called them a friend.

So Youji decides the least he could do is be honest. “She’s calming.”

“Calming,” Masaomi repeats.

“Yeah. When I’m with her, it’s very peaceful. I find her presence soothing.” Masaomi snorts, and Youji thinks maybe he finds the answer disappointing. “You disagree?”

“That woman is not _soothing,_ ” Masaomi says. “She is an ocean. I felt like I was on rough water the entire time.”

Youji startles, but Masaomi is looking at the sky again. _That_ was perhaps the most complimentary he has ever heard Masaomi be to another person, but he thinks Masaomi doesn’t even realize it.

There’s a lot to ponder, there.

*

At any given moment, Kasamatsu Hinami is running from one place to the next. Between classes and three part time jobs, she doesn’t have a lot of time to stop and linger (or meet with friends, or have a hobby, or have any kind of social life, really) but in her experience, crowds of people never mean anything good. So when there’s a group of people standing around, some shouting, she stops to see what’s happening.

It is mostly easy to figure out what _has_ happened, as she pushes her way to the front of the crowd. One girl is on the ground, looking surprised to be there, and another girl stands over her.

“You’re _just_ like they said! You _slut,_ ” and then she hits the girl—the slapping sort of hit that most girls tend to use because they’ve never been taught how to punch. But the girl _keeps_ hitting, with no signs of stopping, until Hinami finally pushes her way to the center and catches the girl’s upraised hand.

“That’s enough.”

The girl tries to pull out of her grasp and only looks back when she discovers she can’t. “Oh, _you,_ ” she sneers, “mind your own damn business, cow.”

“You are hitting someone who is not fighting back and I’m _making_ this my business,” Hinami says.

“Ah, Kasamatsu, don’t break up a chick fight!”

Hinami whirls at the crowd, glaring, and the people in her immediate vicinity step back and then start awkwardly shuffling away, suddenly realizing they have somewhere else to be.

“Let go of me!” the woman Hinami still has by the arm begins to thrash. Hinami lets go, but not before she fully positions herself between the victim and her attacker.

“Are you going to calm down now?” Hinami asks.

“God, you’re such a self-righteous bitch,” the woman sneers again and smoothes down her clothes. “You two deserve each other.”

She storms off without another glance back. It would have been pointless to try and get her to apologize to the girl she had been beating, but it bothers Hinami to leave it at that.

Instead, she bends down to the fallen girl to help her up. “Are you OK?”

The girl doesn’t look severely injured—torn stockings and skinned knees, most likely from when she fell. A slight cut on her cheek—the other girl must have been wearing a ring—but nothing too damaging.

“Oh. Yes. I suppose.” The girl laughs, and Hinami notices that she’s shaking slightly.

“Here, grab my arms,” Hinami says, and then notices her palms are cut too. “You don’t—uh, is there someone I can call? You don’t seem OK.”

Up close, Hinami can see that she is a very pretty girl, the dainty elegant kind that Hinami has always admired because they’re so very different than her. She has never been good at talking to pretty girls. (Or boys, for that matter. Unless they were coworkers, or she was yelling at them. Conversation has never been her forte.)

“No, there isn’t anyone. I will be fine, in a bit,” the woman says, still shaking but sounding remarkably composed. “I have never been attacked before, if you can believe that.”

“It’s, uh, not something that tends to happen,” Hinami allows. She has been in a lot of fights, and is often the aggressor. But _most_ people do not tend to get into altercations.

“I thought maybe she would stop after the first hit,” the woman continues. “So I thought that it might be easier just to let her hit me. If I’d known she was going to continue, I might have tried to hit back, although I have never been very good at physical exertion.”

Hinami believes that too—everything about the girl reminds her of those very expensive china dolls she’d always wanted when she was younger (but her parents could never afford). Pretty, pristine, but delicate.

It also seems like she is on the verge of shock. Hinami tries to imagine a life where she’s never been in a fight before and thinks maybe it _would_ be hard to process. She has a half hour before her next job starts, and she’d been hoping to catch a nap, but this is clearly more important.

“Would you like to get some hot chocolate?” she gestures towards the nearby café. “It might be good to—sit for awhile.”   

The girl looks surprised by the offer, but she recovers quickly. “Yes, thank you, that would be lovely.”

*

The girl insists on paying and Hinami gets the smallest hot chocolate on the menu because she doesn’t like to be extravagant when other people are paying.

“That’s the second time,” the girl announces abruptly when they sit back down.

Hinami blinks at her, because it doesn’t make any sense. “The second time you rescued me.”

“Ah?” Hinami says.

The girl only smiles. She has dimples, which only furthers her doll like features. “You don’t remember me, do you, Kasamatsu-senpai?”

Hinami jolts, because she hasn’t introduced herself yet. “Ah, no, sorry. I’m really bad at remembering names. And faces. Sorry, er, I—”

“No, it’s alright. We only met briefly. I’m Nakahara Shiori, I was one of the people you walked home when that flasher was on campus.”

“Oh,” Hinami says, feeling vaguely embarrassed by the memory. Everyone at work still teased her mercilessly about needing to be Prince Charming to the female students. (“You weren’t even _in_ the late class, Kasamatsu. Why do you have to be a hero all the time?”)

“One of the First Year art students?” Now that she’s mentioned it, she _does_ look vaguely familiar, but that was months ago, and Hinami walked with a lot of people. “You weren’t the one who was with me when I…”

“Punched the man in the throat?” Shiori supplies. “No, although I would have loved to see it. I just appreciated walking home with you and I always meant to tell you that. And now you’ve saved me again, and it’s a little embarrassing.”

“It’s nothing,” Hinami says, still feeling profoundly awkward. “Anyone would have.”

Shiori looks at her pointedly. “But no one did.”

Hinami couldn’t deny that. Everyone else had just stood around and watched. That just makes Hinami feel even more embarrassed (and angry) because contrary to popular opinion, she _doesn’t_ like the attention. “Why was she attacking you, anyway? Do you think she’ll try again? We could report her to campus police, or your RA, or—”

“No. That’s alright, I am not a tattletale.”

Hinami frowns, because she has never liked the culture of “not telling” as some sort of honor code.

“And besides, I do not think she will attack me again. She was angry, but she will not press the issue,” Shiori continues, “she believes I stole her boyfriend. Since he broke up with her recently, I imagine it still hurts. I am sure she will calm down once she realizes I did not.”

“Was she your friend?” Hinami asks, frowning her way through this context.

“Not particularly. She hung out with me out of pity and because she thought I was a doormat. That’s why she was so outraged when I started hanging out with the boys she was trying to ingratiate herself with. She did not think I could be ‘competition.’”

Hinami blinks—slightly taken aback by the matter-of-fact way she presented the information and also by this further glimpse into the social interactions of these people. She never knew people could be so complicated.

“You’re not going to ask me who the boys are?” Shiori asks, with a smile.

“Why does that matter?” Hinami asks, surprised by the question.

Shiori’s smile deepens. “It might be illuminating. They’re Akashi Masaomi and Yamazaki Youji.”

“ _Those_ two?” Hinami sputters, because that _is_ illuminating, and it is not a pleasant picture. It would be _just like_ those two to needlessly stir up drama between two women—they were probably watching and laughing somewhere while she got hit! “No, no, you’re too nice for those two, stay away from those guys. They are the _worst._ ”

Shiori laughs softly, and her smile is sort of wry and complicated when she says, “Kasamatsu-senpai, that is a _bit_ unkind, considering how much Youji-san likes you.”

Hinami groans. “Is he _still_ telling people that? God, he needs to leave that fucking joke alone already, it’s getting tiresome.”

For the first time, Shiori looks mildly surprised. “You _don’t_ believe he is sincere?”

Hinami huffs and leans in to explain. “Yamazaki Youji, in his first four months of being here, probably slept with half the women on campus.”

Shiori’s lips twitch as she says, “Yes, you are most likely correct; that is probably not even covering the extent of his conquests.”

“See? That’s exactly my point. He flirts with _everyone_ and he hits on people like it’s a reflex. That’s why he hit on _me_ to begin with—it was just automatic. And then he seemed surprised when I turned him down and now he keeps on hitting on me—because I told him ‘no’ and he has something to prove. But he is _not_ in love with me.”

She can still remember him standing over her with that stupid _smirk_ of his—like he knew he was good-looking and that anyone would want to sleep with him. It always infuriated her when men acted like they were god’s gift to women—as if there wouldn’t be a single woman who wouldn’t want to date them. It was even more frustrating when so many women were willing to prove it true; it made it almost impossible to convince them that someone could be disinterested. She sometimes still wished she’d kneed him in the balls when she had the chance.

“Oh dear,” Shiori murmurs. She must have actually believed Youji’s stupid joke and _god_ Hinami really wishes he would let that one go. Shiori tilts her head and says, _“Would_ you go out with him? If he _was_ sincere?”

Hinami looks at her sharply. “No. I have standards. Primarily, I refuse to date anyone who is on a first name basis with the devil.”

Shiori lets out a startled laugh. “You mean Akashi-san?”

“Yes. I believe that’s what Satan is calling himself in his current incarnation,” Hinami says, gritting her teeth at the thought of that obnoxious evil little shit.

“I think you are giving him far too much credit, Senpai,” Shiori says, “a chaotic demon, I will grant you, but I do not believe him grand enough to be the devil himself.”

Hinami smiles wryly, but she just shakes her head. Now is not the time to go into her thoughts on Akashi Masaomi.

“But regardless of Akashi-san’s nature, surely that does not need to reflect on Youji-san?”

“Are you trying to convince me to _like_ him?” Hinami asks, a tad incredulous.

“I just think perhaps you have been too hasty with your judgment on Youji-san. I think you _could_ like him, if you got to know him.”

The origins of this conversation slowly starts filling in the gaps, and Hinami remembers that Shiori had claimed the two boys were her friends. And she must actually like them, to try and defend them now. Hinami does not particularly enjoy trash-talking anyone, especially not to friends of the people in question, but she feels like it’s her duty to try and protect this girl from those two.

“Have you ever had a first impression that was so bad, it didn’t matter what fourth, twentieth, or even hundredth impression you might have later on because it’ll never be enough to erase that first encounter?” Hinami asks finally.

“No,” Shiori says after a pause, “I can’t say that I have. What on earth did they do?”

Hinami just shakes her head, because it is tiresome to talk about Masaomi and Youji.

“Youji-san did mention that he had behaved very patronizingly when you first met, and he was extremely regretful about it.”

“Yes, he _was_ very patronizing,” Hinami says, snorting as she once again remembers his stupid smirk. “Did he also happen to mention they were in the middle of lighting someone on fire? Because that was honestly the part I objected to more.”

Shiori lets out a strangled sort of sound, some mixture between a cough and a huff, and covers her mouth. Then, almost apologetically, she says, “No, he, um, didn’t mention that part.”

“No,” Hinami says. “I didn’t figure that he had.” She lets out a long sigh. It’s probably useless. Everyone always just smiled and forgave them like they thought it was cute that they hurt people. But she still feels like she has to _try_ because this girl had been hurt once already and Hinami feels like it’s only going to get worse.

“Those boys are _mean._ And not only that, they’re destructive and cruel. If you keep hanging out with them, you’ll only end up getting hurt.”

Shiori is still smiling, but her eyes look sad when she says, “You do not need to worry about me, Senpai. I am not a very nice person either, did you know?”

“You’re not like them!” Hinami says, indignant.

“Oh, but I am. Ask anyone.” Shiori looks away, and her voice grows distant as she explains, “Everyone knows that I steal people’s boyfriends. I am quite infamous for it.”

“You said you didn’t take the girl’s boyfriend,” Hinami points out, only now realizing that Shiori’s attacker must have been dating either Masaomi or Youji.

“I’m not talking about her,” Shiori says wryly. “When I first came here, I only had one friend. She didn’t care what people said about me, and she was the only one who talked to me. But then her boyfriend claimed he’d slept with me and she believed him.”

“It sounds like he was in the wrong?” Hinami says, frowning.

“Yes, but afterwards, I slept with her boyfriend. I was very angry at her.”

Shiori meets her gaze as if in challenge. She expects Hinami to condemn her, so Hinami speaks very carefully. “Well, that wasn’t very nice. But that doesn’t make you a cruel person.”

“I am not sure how you can draw the line, Senpai. Between what I did, and what they did.”

“If you were a cruel person, you wouldn’t look so sad now,” Hinami says gently.

Shiori looks down quickly, her fingers gripping a napkin on the table. She looks very much like someone who is trying not to cry; who has learned a long time ago never to let people see her cry. Finally, she says, “Youji-san is my only friend.”

“I’ll be your friend,” Hinami offers immediately, and then blushes faintly because she’s never really had any close girl friends before and she’s always worked too much to maintain a proper friendship. “I mean, if you want,” she amends. “And, I’m not just saying that. I think you’re a nice person, so it’s not like—”

“Like you’re offering out of pity?” Shiori finishes when Hinami trails off, and she smiles again, “That’s alright, Senpai. All my friendships start because of pity. But if you _do_ mean it, I would be honored.”

There’s something a little broken about her. That’s the impression that Hinami gets. And it’s not pity, but a fierce desire to protect her and see her smile as a genuine thing that makes her think she really _does_ hope they can be friends.

*

If asked, Masomi would tell anyone that he wasn’t _spying;_ he just happened to overhear them talking, and didn’t feel like interrupting, so he stopped midway down the stairs, and anyway, it’s certainly not his fault, they were in _his_ house after all, so it’s not like he could help hearing them.

But of course he was shamelessly spying on them.

“I think perhaps you _should_ give up on her, Youji-san.”

“Oh, Shi-chan, not you too.”

“Youji-san, I am not trying to be mean. But I do not think you two are compatible.”

“Why _not?_ ”

“Because you have very different moral worldviews. In the long run, I am not sure that would make for a functional relationship, even if you _were_ to win her heart.”

There’s a pause and Masaomi has to restrain himself from bounding down there to contribute. He recognizes that he would only make things worse, and by God, if Shiori could actually _reason_ with him…

“I don’t know what you mean,” Youji sulks, in a way that is very clear he knows _exactly_ what she means.

“She told me how you two met. Were you _really_ trying to set someone on fire?”

Masaomi rolls his eyes—of _course_ Hinami would still be on that. She is exactly the kind of person who can never let things go.

“We weren’t _really_ going to set him on fire,” Youji says, continuing with that sulky voice of his that Masaomi finds disgusting because it’s so often associated with Hinami. “We were just scaring him a little.”

Masaomi wishes he could see Shiori’s face. Most people, he reflects, would not be so calm about discussing setting someone on fire.

“And anyway,” Youji continues, “he deserved it.”

“Yes, I figured that out.”

 _Did_ she? Masaomi thinks.

“Did you?” Youji asks.

Masaomi can _hear_ Shiori smiling when she says, “You told me about being patronizing and you apologized for it. But you didn’t tell me about setting someone on fire, or apologize for that. If I had to guess, I would think it’s because you are not apologetic about that at all.”

“I’m not,” Youji says.

“I do not believe either of you are as psychotic as people like to say, which leads me to believe you must have thought he deserved it, and I am sure I would agree with you.”

It is not just that she speaks so calmly about setting people on fire—it’s the fact that she so easily came to that conclusion. Her powers of deduction were impressive—no, not that. She is _perceptive._ She is quiet and she observes things and it’s like she could read people’s minds. Perception is a rarer trait than intelligence.

“So—” Youji starts.

“But I am _also_ willing to bet that whatever it is about this man that made him a deserving victim is something that Kasamatsu-senpai was _also_ aware of—and she did _not_ think he deserved that treatment, did she?” Youji doesn’t respond, so Shiori continues, “Kasamatsu-senpai is the kind of person who doesn’t believe people deserve to be treated badly. I bet she saved him, even though she knew what he had done.”

“Yes,” Youji admits, sounding miserable. “Yes, that’s what she said—that no one deserved to be treated badly. But—” he doesn’t seem to know how to follow the rest of that statement.

“That is why you two aren’t compatible,” Shiori says gently. “Because her morals are different.”

If Shiori actually convinces Youji that his obsession is doomed, Masaomi will buy her a house. _Two_ houses. He will buy her everything she ever wanted, ten times over.

“I could learn to be moral,” Youji ventures, and Masaomi resists the urge to bang his head against the wall. “Saving everyone. I could do that.”

“Youji-san,” Shiori says, only his name is like a sigh.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Youji says. “You’re thinking it’s never going to work if I have to change myself. But I _want_ to change myself. I want to be a good person.”

“It’s not going to work, unless Akashi-san makes a few lifestyle choices as well. Hinami-san also objected quite strongly to your friendship with Akashi-san.”

Masaomi snorts quietly.

“Well, that’s asking too much. I’ll learn how to be good and she can learn how to like Masa-chan. We can compromise.”

“She doesn’t need to compromise. She doesn’t like you.”

Masaomi has to admire the way she stabs the knife so brutally and without mercy.

Except then she continues with, “If you stop being friends with Akashi-san, that might increase your chances. It would be a way to prove to her you have seen the errors of your ways.” Masaomi decides he’s not buying a Shiori a house.

“No, that won’t happen. If she ever loves me, she’ll have to put up with Masa-chan. I just need to get her to love me first, and then it will be fine.”

There’s another pause; another moment when Masaomi wishes he could see Shiori’s face. He gets the distinct feeling that it wouldn’t matter even if he _could_ see her. He doubts he’d be able to tell what she’s thinking.

“In that case, you need to be her friend first,” Shiori says slowly. “Stop asking her out and confessing your love. Just get to know her as a person and give her the chance to get to know you. She will never love you if she cannot be your friend.”

“That is really good advice!” Youji says exuberantly, and Masaomi scowls because that _is_ good advice.

“It will take longer,” Shiori cautions. “It might take years. And you can’t think of being her friend as some sort of consolation prize. Nor can you be her friend and expect to date her in the end. I am only telling you that you will need to earn her respect first.”

“I can wait years,” Youji says and _god,_ Masaomi believes it. “I can be her friend! We need to plan! I’m going to plan!”

Masaomi listens to the sound of the door opening and closing and then rolls his eyes again. Youji just ran out to do whatever he thinks is necessary to trick someone into being friends with him, leaving Shiori alone in their house.

Seeing no point in hiding anymore, Masaomi descends down the stairs and says, “You gave up _way_ too fast.”

Shiori doesn’t startle, or even look surprised at his sudden appearance. “Hello, Akashi-san. What do you think he’s doing right now?”

“I don’t know. Updating his stalker supplies. Whatever. You _almost_ had him! You should have kept pushing!”

“Has that strategy worked for you, Akashi-san?” Shiori inquires.

“Feh,” Masaomi plops down on the couch next to her, willing to admit she had a point. “Anyway, aren’t you surprised I was listening in?”

“Not particularly. We’re in your house, I assume you can hear anything spoken in your house. Like saying the devil’s name at night.”

Masaomi grins, rather flattered by the comparison. Then he tilts his head. “And you still tried to convince Youji to stop being my friend? Were you trying to test me?”

“Not at all, I was testing Youji-san. Which I do not feel guilty about; I’ve tested his devotion before, and he didn’t mind.”

She smiles at him and Masaomi remembers she admitted to propositioning Youji, and he thinks he knows how that conversation probably went. “Do you make a habit of testing men of their fidelity?”

“You could call it a hobby of mine,” Shiori responds coolly. “Youji-san is an incredibly loyal person. I’ve never met anyone like him before. He is faithful to the _idea_ of her. So many men can’t keep promises they actually make to the women who want those promises.”

“Youji is different,” Masaomi says, a tad proud. He likes that Shiori realizes this fact. “You’ll never meet another person like Youji.”

Shiori has that little smile she often gets. “He’s also incredibly loyal to _you_. I must confess I am very curious as to what you did to earn that.”

Masaomi snorts and stretches out his legs. “Absolutely nothing. That’s just who he is.”

“Oh. I see.” She says this quietly, like she’s just come to some realization.

“You see what?” Masaomi asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing,” Shiori says, smiling like an innocent.

He could press, but finds that he doesn’t want to. Shiori is the only person he has ever met who makes him feel like she knows more than he does and he finds that very unsettling.

And also, rather alarmingly, incredibly attractive.

“Would you like to go on a date?” he asks abruptly.

Only this doesn’t seem to shock her either. An ocean, he called her, and that’s what he thinks now. She looks calm on the surface, with impossible depths.

“No, Akashi-san. I have no desire to be one of your girlfriends.”

“You’d be my only one,” Masaomi reassures.

“For about two weeks, and then you would grow bored,” Shiori says.

“Maybe not,” Masaomi says, pressing in closer and getting her most seductive smile. “You’re interesting, I don’t think I _would_ get bored with you. I like you, Shiori.”

He deliberately says her first name without honorifics to see how she’ll react.

She pats him on the knee. “That is nice of you to say, Akashi-san. But I would much rather be your friend than your girlfriend.”

“‘Let’s just be friends,’ really? That’s the best you’ve got? I expected more originality, at least.”

“Not at all, I am very much in earnest. It is a _very_ daring request, all things considered. I suspect that being your friend is a more permanent position than being your girlfriend. You seem to care more about your friends than your lovers. So really, I am asking for something quite audacious,” she smiles. “One that I do not expect you will bestow, so you do not need to be concerned. I am quite content to be pleasant strangers.”

Masaomi laughs—and he’s surprised by how genuine the laughter is. He feels delighted, and it’s not often that anyone can delight him. “No, this will never do, Shiori. I refuse to let you write me off so easily. I _will_ be your friend, because you’re right, my friends have proven to be around longer than my lovers, and I think I _would_ like you around. At least, for a bit longer.”

“That is high praise indeed, Masaomi-san, thank you.”

He grins at her sudden switch to the use of his first name.

The door bursts open and Youji comes in with a plastic grocery bag. “OK! I bought research—Masa-chan? Why are you crowding Shi-chan like that? Leave Shi-chan alone, you pervert.”

It occurs to Masaomi then that he _is_ still sitting very close to her. So he scooches away. “She’s my friend now, I decided.”

“Oh, good for you,” Youji says. “Shi-chan, he has absolutely _no_ concept for personal space, so you have my sympathy.”

“Thank you, Youji-san.”

“Hey!”

*

Hinami is very much enjoying her early forays into having a friend, but it somehow didn’t occur to her that being friends with Shiori would inevitably lead her to this moment.

She saw Shiori first, and called out to her with an exuberant, “Shiori!” It was only after they both turned that she realized Shiori was having coffee with Yamazaki Youji, and Hinami has to curse the fact that her calling out means she can’t pretend she didn’t see them.

“Hinami-senpai,” Shiori says, “please, come join us.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t—” Hinami says. “I have—things.” She’s never been good at thinking of excuses on the fly. She doesn’t need to, usually, her three jobs and school usually providing readymade reasons to not spend time with unpleasant people. But she actually has a free afternoon, and she hates lying.

“Oh, _please_ Senpai, I haven’t seen you in awhile. Youji-san will behave himself right, Youji-san?”

“Right,” Youji startles, shifting in his seat. “Um. Hi, Senpai. It’s nice to see you again.” He gets up and lifts his hand, then stares at it, then drops his hand and sits back down, looking studiously at the table.

“OK,” Hinami says, trying not to sound _too_ reluctant. “But I can only stay for a little bit.” She sits between them—not having much choice, when there’s only three of them, and wishes she could think of a way to ignore Youji without being rude to Shiori.

“Youji-san was telling me about his math class,” Shiori prompts. “Weren’t you?”

“Er, I forgot what I was saying,” Youji says, wide-eyed.

“How are your classes, Senpai?” Shiori asks.

“Fine,” Hinami says curtly.

The situation is horribly awkward, and Hinami blames this entirely on Youji. If it had just been her and Shiori, they would be chatting and laughing right now, instead of this tense situation. And even though, logically, she’s the one who intruded on _their_ outing, she can’t help but feel like the polite thing for Youji to do would have been to find some reason to leave so she and Shiori could be alone.

“I’m going to buy another cake,” Shiori says cheerfully. “Play nice you two! I’ll be back in a sec.”

“What?” Hinami exclaims, very alarmed, but Shiori is already walking away. Hinami is going to have _words_ with her about this betrayal later.

“I didn’t ask her to do that,” Youji say quickly.

“Is she trying to set us up?” Hinami glowers accusatorily at Youji. She’d been fairly certain she’d convinced Shiori about Youji’s stupid joke, but if he kept lying to her…

“No, no, I’m not—I have been persuaded that I should probably stop asking you out, Senpai, so I won’t.”

“Good,” Hinami says, mollified slightly, instantly forgiving Shiori for the terribleness of the situation, since surely she was the one doing the persuading.

“But I _would_ like to be your friend, Senpai,” Youji says, looking up at her through his absurdly long lashes and smiling that charming smile she hated so much.

“No thanks,” Hinami says instantly.

Youji slumps and he actually looks disappointed. So much so that Hinami feels bad for a second until she remembers that she doesn’t trust his ability to be genuine. “I’m a pretty good friend,” Youji ventures tentatively. “I’m a good listener. And I have other good qualities.”

“You’re friends with Akashi Masaomi,” Hinami says.

“He has good qualities too.”

Hinami snorts. “No. He doesn’t.”

“But he does,” Youji protests, sounding dismayed. “He’s really not as bad as people say. It’s just rumors.”

She has to stare at him for a second. He _sounds_ like he actually means it. Which makes her wonder if he’s a really good liar or if he’s just seriously deluded. He _lives_ with Akashi Masaomi—is it even possible for him to not know what kind of person Masaomi is?

And it’s only because she wants to know which it is—liar, deluded, or ignorant—that she settles in her seat, positioning herself fully to look at Youji. “No. It’s _not_ rumor. I would not dislike him if I didn’t know for sure what kind of person he is. So since _you_ don’t seem to know, let me tell you a story.

“Last semester, I was taking an Art History class. There was a couple in that class who were high school sweethearts. They were incredibly cutesy—pet names, handholding in public, matching boxed bentos prepared by the girlfriend each morning; your stereotypical couple in love.”

She pauses, to see if any of this is ringing a bell to Youji. Seeing this as a cue for a response, Youji says, “They sound adorable.”

“Yes,” Hinami say warily. “They _were_ cute. Akashi was _also_ in this class. He offered the boyfriend five million yen to break up with his girlfriend.”

Youji laughs.

Hinami clenches her fists and pushes her seat back to leave because _that_ certainly answered her question on what kind of person Yamazaki Youji is.

“Wait, I didn’t mean—” Youji grabs her wrist but then instantly drops it when she turns to glare at him, holding up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I wasn’t laughing at the situation. I was only laughing because that’s, well, it just sounded like an incredibly _Masaomi_ thing to do when confronted with a couple in love. I, uh, I’m assuming from the fact that you’re telling this story that the boyfriend probably took the money.”

“Yes, he did,” Hinami says, her voice tight.

“And the girl?” Youji says, furrowing his brows in what is most likely fake concern.

“She had to drop out of college. She was so devastated she couldn’t concentrate and she failed too many classes.”

“That is a very rough thing for her,” Youji says, his voice full of sympathy. “I’m sorry that happened to her. It can’t be easy to be betrayed by love.”

“ _Your friend_ did that!” she shouts, because she suspects he’s missing the point entirely.

“You blame Masa-chan for what happened to her?” Youji says, confused.

“ _Yes!_ Oh my God, you _don’t?_ ” She stares at him in utter disbelief, wondering if he misunderstood what she’d been saying.

“No? That was clearly the boyfriend’s fault. Don’t tell me you excuse _him_?”

“No, of course not,” Hinami says, and she has to sit back down in order to fully process what’s happening. She can still remember visiting the girl—the pale, hallowed out creature she was, like a ghost on earth. When she’d gone back again to check on her, the girl’s roommate explained she’d had to move back home so her family could keep an eye on her because everyone was afraid she might kill herself.

“But it was Akashi who interfered, Akashi who made the offer—I don’t, I literally cannot comprehend how your mind works for you not to see his blame in this.”

“Masaomi didn’t make any promises to the girl,” Youji says, his voice quiet instead of defensive. “Her happiness was not his responsibility. It was the boy who was cruel, not Masa-chan.”

There are too many things—and nothing at all—that could be said about that. Hinami doesn’t know how to process her own thoughts into a response, so she keeps quiet.

“I think, if Masaomi had made the offer to the girl, she probably wouldn’t have taken the money,” Youji says, faced with Hinami’s silence. “Which is probably why he chose the boy. Someone with that kind of faithlessness—there would have always been _something_ to tempt him to stray. That’s the kind of person he revealed himself to be.”

“But why does Akashi Masaomi get to judge the good from the bad?” Hinami demands. “Why does Akashi Masaomi get to play with people’s lives? Just for the fun of it?”

“Isn’t it better she finds out now what kind of person he is early on?” Youji asks.

“And what kind of person is he?” Hinami bursts out. “Poor? Is that the judgment Akashi Masaomi sets to pass on others? Do you know how much money five million yen is for most people? Not everyone is born rich.”

“Not everyone would have taken the money,” Youji points out, “ _you_ wouldn’t have, Senpai, not for anything.”

“You don’t know that,” Hinami says shortly. She certainly _wants_ to believe no amount of money could convince her to hurt someone she loved and who loved her. She wants to believe she wouldn’t be tempted for a second.

But _god_ she’s been poor for so long. When her parents died she inherited so much debt; she’s spent too many nights eating cheap packaged ramen, or sometimes nothing at all, barely scraping by. She’s cried over her paychecks, knowing they wouldn’t be enough to cover her rent and debt and leave enough for groceries. She’s worked three, sometimes four jobs ever since high school and never let herself have any indulgence and if someone offered her five million yen could she _really_ turn it down? When that kind of money could change her life?

“You wouldn’t,” Youji says, sounding so confident that it just makes her want to hit him because how dare he act like he knows anything about her.

“Rich people like you and Masaomi might think it’s hilarious to play with the lives of the poor, but it’s not so easy for the rest of us to get by,” Hinami says, pulling back her seat again.

“Me?” Youji says. “I’m not—”

“I don’t care,” Hinami says, tired all of the sudden. She thinks about trying to explain herself further—but what’s the point? She wanted to know how someone could think Akashi Masaomi is a good person, and now she knows. Because he’s the same kind of person who doesn’t see why it’s a problem to break people for fun. So there’s no point in saying anything. “Give my apologies to Shiori. I have to leave.”

“Senpai—”

But she doesn’t give him the chance to say anything else. She walks away, and doesn’t look back.

*

At night, Yamazaki Youji lies in his bed and wonders if he’s a terrible person.

Kasamatsu Hinami has a way of making him think he probably is. And maybe that would be a sign that he shouldn’t love her, except he thinks she must be right.  When he thinks about the people who raised him, he thinks it was probably inevitable.

So. He’s a terrible person. But does he _always_ have to be a terrible person? Is goodness something you can acquire just by wanting it?

He wonders if she could come to like Masaomi. If she said, “I’ll be friends with you, but only if you aren’t friends with Masaomi” then that would have to be it, because Masaomi is a fixed feature in his life. But he _knows_ she wouldn’t ever do that. She’s not the kind of person who would put conditions on love, if she came to love someone.

But she doesn’t love him.

In the dark, he has to confront this reality and finally admit to himself: _Face it, Youji, she might not ever love you._

Which is…fine. She doesn’t need to love him. She can love someone else, start a life with someone else. That’s fine. What he’s thinking about _now_ in the privacy of his own bedroom, in the silent hours of night, is the question: Is it OK if he keeps loving her anyway?

Masaomi thinks he needs to move on. Shiori said that too. But, as long as he doesn’t actually become a stalker, as long as he just quietly loves her even when she’s not in his life anymore, isn’t that OK? Does he have to stop loving someone just because they don’t love him back? Can’t that love just be something he keeps, like a secret that belongs only to him.

His bedroom door opens; a quiet sound only Youji would hear. Then there’s added weight on his bed as the mattress dips and there’s a warmth at his back and arms wrapped around his waist and someone nestles in close.

“Hi, Masa-chan,” Youji says softly.

“Mph. You’re still awake?”

“Yeah.”

They’re speaking in whispers now, because night seems to call for whispers, even when there’s no one else in the house.

Every now and then, Masaomi comes into his room to sleep. Youji never had any friends, but he’s beginning to suspect this is something most friends don’t do. Youji knows it’s a by-product of when they first met; something Masaomi needs sometimes, even though he’d rather die than ever admit he needed anything. He thought Masaomi might stop once he found out Youji is bisexual, but he didn’t.

And it wouldn’t bother Masaomi, Youji reasoned later, because this—whatever this is—isn’t a sex thing. Masaomi never sleeps with the people he has sex with.

Youji turns so he’s facing Masaomi. It should be awkward, except it never has been. “I don’t think she’ll ever love me, Masa-chan.” Youji says, because the darkness is a different sort of reality; one where he can tell Masaomi anything.

Masaomi just press in closer and sighs into Youji’s skin. “Sorry, friend. I wish I could buy her for you.”

Youji huffs, “She wouldn’t be worth it, if you could.”

“Yeah, I know,” Masaomi says. “Nothing you can buy ever is.”

Which is a statement that tends to have a different sort of meaning, when said by a multi-billionaire.

“She’s an idiot,” Masaomi says, his voice still quiet, “Only an idiot wouldn’t love Youji.”

Youji lets out a soft whuffing sound, a whisper of a laugh. Masaomi’s arm is around his waist; they’re in bed together, whispering about love in the dark. He knows it’s not normal. Youji has never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend he’s been _this_ intimate with, and maybe he should think more about what that means.

“No one loves me, Masa-chan. Only you.”

“Well, there you go. Everyone is an idiot but me. I always knew that.”

Idly, he wonders what Masaomi would do if he kissed him right now. It’s not something he wants to do, exactly, because he’s never been attracted to Masaomi sexually. (Although, every now and then it still catches him off-guard that Masaomi isn’t the scrawny kid he first met anymore. In just this past year, Masaomi had a growth spurt and spent a lot of time in the gym, working on his weaknesses. Youji _isn’t_ attracted to Masaomi, but he’d be blind if he didn’t realize that Masaomi is a lot more attractive now.) And Masaomi isn’t attracted to him, he’s fairly certain about that. Masaomi has never been remotely interested in men.

But still. He wonders what Masaomi would do.

“Am I a bad person, Masa-chan?”

“No, _I’m_ a bad person,” Masaomi says, sounding fond. “You’re the best person I know.”

"You’re not bad,” Youji says, sighing and closing his eyes, finally feeling sleepy. “You’re Masa-chan.” He feels fingers run through his hair, and he drifts to sleep, breathing the same air as Masaomi.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Furihata returns from basketball practice feeling a familiar mixture of frustration, anxiety, and depression. He’d felt this way a lot in his First Year, less so after he’d played in official games. But he’d been so stressed out and distracted that he hadn’t performed well and that always makes him feel awful. All he wants to do now is crawl into bed and never leave.

“Oh, Kouki!” His mother calls up the stairs from the kitchen as he’s halfway to his room. “Akashi-san is here to see you.”

He has enough time to feel excited and also stressed (he hasn’t told Akashi about his encounter with his father yet) and then to wonder why his mother had used the “san” ending, and then he opens his door and—

—sees Akashi Masaomi, standing in his bedroom.

“Oh good, you’re home,” he says cheerfully.

“You’re—in my room,” Furihata says, because that’s genuinely the only thing that comes to mind.

“That I am,” Masaomi says generously. “Your mother—lovely woman—said I should wait in the living room, but I thought it best if we talked in private first. She’s a very understanding lady.”

“Ah?” Furihata says, because he still can’t think of anything intelligent.

“We got off on the wrong foot,” Masaomi says, sounding earnest. “In retrospect, I shouldn’t have taken my joke so far when we had just met.”

“You were…joking?”

“Of course I was!” Masaomi beams. “All in good fun. I like to tease, but I didn’t mean to hurt you, Furihata-kun.”

“Oh. That’s—that’s OK,” Furihata says. Masaomi had certainly _sounded_ serious, when he said, _I will pay you five million yen to break up with Seijuurou._ Furihata flushes, feeling even _more_ embarrassed by his reaction at the time, which he hadn’t thought possible. Masaomi had _looked_ serious too…but, if it _was_ just a joke…

“I couldn’t help teasing,” Masaomi continues easily. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time now, but Seijuurou was so stubborn! I admit, I felt a little hurt by it all. I thought Seijuurou and I were closer than that.”

“But Akashi respects you a lot,” Furihata rushes in to reassure him.

“Thank you! That’s nice of you to say. But really, I’ve felt for a long time now that we should get to know each other. And then I made such a mess of it—really, I’m just appalled with myself. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Of course,” Furihata says immediately. “It was my fault for misunderstanding. I shouldn’t have—” he flushes again, embarrassed by the reminder of how he’d ran away in tears after meeting his boyfriend’s father.

“Good, good. I’m so glad to hear that. I definitely think it’s time we got to know each other, don’t you think?”

Abruptly, Furihata remembers Akashi’s request _. He’ll destroy you. Promise me you won’t go near him._ “Er.”

“So, I was thinking, you have a holiday week coming up soon, right? You should come stay in Kyoto for awhile. I’m sure that would make Seijuurou happy, and you could see some of Kyoto’s nice vacation spots.”

“Visit…you?” Furihata says, “for the week? In your house?”

“Yes,” Masaomi says kindly. “That’s what I mean. I have plenty of guest bedrooms, so I’m not proposing anything indecent.”

“Oh, that’s not—” Furihata blushes.

“And it wouldn’t just be us, if you’re concerned about awkwardness. Kasamatsu Youji is an old friend of mine. I thought he and his boys could stay with us too. It’ll be like a school trip! Only with less people and a higher class of amenities.”

“That does sound nice,” Furihata allows, because it is somewhat nice to think he wouldn’t be alone in this. Having Kasamatsu Yukio there would be infinitely reassuring. But he’s also very glad there’s no way this trip could actually happen. “But I can’t. I don’t have permission to leave for the week.”

“I already talked to your mother about it,” Masaomi says, grinning triumphantly. “I would _never_ propose such a thing if I didn’t have parental permission. She thought it was an excellent idea.”

“She…did?” Furihata says, a little dazed. “That’s, um, nice, but I was actually thinking about my coach.”

“Your…coach?” Masaomi repeats. “The teenage girl?”

“Yeah,” Furihata says, his brows furrowing. “How did you know who my coach is?”

“I—watched Seijuurou’s basketball games.”

“Oh, right, of course.”

“You need the eighteen-year-old girl’s permission to go away for the week?”

“Well, yes,” Furihata says, “we usually go away on training camp for the holiday weeks. And I really can’t afford to miss practice anyway, not with a tournament coming up.”

“Yes, I could—see where that would be a problem,” Masaomi says, in a stilted sort of way.

“And Coach is very strict. I’m sure she wouldn’t allow it,” Furihata says, and he’s never been more glad about Aida Riko’s sharp and relentless command.

Masaomi pauses, like he’s thinking things through, and then says, “So, if I get…this teenage girl’s…permission. Would you join me for the holiday week?”

“Sure,” Furihata says, because he feels fairly confident that Riko is not going to give her permission. It seems like a neat way to make sure he doesn’t hurt Masaomi’s feelings while still keeping his promise to Akashi.

*

“Riko… did you just sell Furihata to that man?” Hyuuga asks, quizzical and slightly disapproving.

“What I _did_ was get us new basketball boards, uniforms, balls, and funding for a coach to replace me after I graduate for the next ten years,” Riko says cheerfully, _very_ pleased with how all that turned out. Her father had been interested in taking on Seirin’s coaching duties for awhile now, but getting the school to agree to the funding had been a stalling point.

“But…like… you just sold Furihata,” Izuki says. “To that rich man there.”

“Only for a week,” Riko says, still blissful from her victory. “And I’d sell any of you to do the same.”

*

“Masaomi-san, I feel the need to point out that this is a terrible idea,” Hinamori Akane, Executive Director of Akashi Industries, points out in her toneless way of speaking. 

“Nonsense, Akane-chan, this is perfect,” Masaomi says. “My mistake was thinking that a short afternoon would give me the chance to properly investigate Seijuurou’s relationship with Furihata.”

“I thought your mistake was trying to pay the boy to break up—”

“We are not discussing what my mistakes may or may not have been!” Masaomi says. “The point is, if I have Furihata-kun in my home with Seijuurou for a week, I will definitely be able to ascertain the relevant information.”

“I am not sure why you thought this was a good idea,” Akane says reproachfully.

“I am so glad you asked! Consider, the fairy tale witch.”

Akane stares at him, her dark eyes blank.

“The fairy tale witch does not _steal_ children. No, the fairy tale witch has a house made of candy, and the lost children just wander right inside.”

“You are enticing Furihata-kun into your home with candy.”

“Metaphorically. It’s the age-old wisdom of fairy tale witches.”

“It is also a tactic pedophiles use.”

“Akane-chan! Don’t make this crude. I have very pure intentions here.”

“Masaomi-san, do you even know how that fairy tale ends?”

“The witches always won in my childhood versions,” Masaomi says. “At any rate, I have concluded I need both Seijuurou and Furihata in the same place and I’ll have the home advantage. It will be perfect.”

“I do not think it will be so easy to lure these children to your home. Metaphorical candy or not. I do not believe he will agree to this.”

“Ah ha! That’s where you’re wrong! I just made a bargain with a very bloodthirsty teenage girl. This is costing quite a lot of money, but it’s all arranged. Incidentally, please make a note to keep track of Aida Riko’s career to recruit her so she doesn’t end up with one of our competitors.”

“Duly noted. She got the better of you, did she?”

“She knew she had something I wanted,” Masaomi says darkly, remembering their haggling. “She had the upper hand. That will certainly teach me not to underestimate teenagers.”

“A lesson I would have thought you had learned by now. Incidentally, I was not referring to Furihata-kun. You will never get Seijuurou-kun to go along with this plan, and I am certain he will thwart your best intentions.”

“Oh, absolutely. That’s why this is going to be a fun surprise for him!”

Akane gives him a measured look and then pronounces, “This is going to end badly for you.”

“Don’t be such a downer, Akane! And anyway, Youji will be there. Youji will make sure everything goes smoothly.”

*

“Oh, _hell_ no,” Youji says. “I am absolutely not going to have any part in this insanity. What possessed you to think this was a _good_ idea?”

“Yooooouuji,” Masaomi whines. “It was not easy for me to admit that you probably needed to be there, you know. But after what happened last time, I figured it would be better to make sure you were around as a buffer.”

Youji rubs his temples, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I am both impressed by the fact that you’re self-aware enough to realize you need a chaperone but also somewhat appalled by the fact that you admit you still might mess this up if left to your own devices.”

“It is a very good of Masaomi-san to admit he needs help,” Akane says loyally. Youji looks at Masaomi’s Executive Director with a certain amount of skepticism. Despite the fact that she has been employed by Masaomi for almost ten years, Youji doesn’t know much about the woman. She’s incredibly competent and manages Masaomi well—an impressive feat in and of itself. But there’s something unapproachable about her.

Youji wishes he _did_ know her better. At first, he assumed Akane and Masaomi had to be dating, despite their apparent age-difference. Masaomi had been genuinely disturbed by the suggestion when Youji had brought it up though. At any rate, anyone who could put up with Masaomi for a prolonged period of time is someone Youji is inclined to like, even if he doesn’t know her all that well.

“There, see?” Masaomi beams.

“Mind you, this is an incredibly bad idea,” Akane continues.

“Now that was just unnecessary.”

“Let me get this straight,” Youji says. “After an initial _disaster_ where the boy ran away from you in tears, you somehow think inviting him to stay in your house for a week is a _good_ idea?”

“I will be much more careful not to make him cry again,” Masaomi reassures. “And you will be there to make sure I can’t, now won’t you?”

Youji resists the urge to groan because Masaomi really has maneuvered him neatly into agreeing. There’s no way he _can’t_. For Furihata’s sake—who really does not deserve to have Masaomi as a future father-in-law, that poor boy—Youji better be there to make sure Masaomi behaves.

“OK, I see the logic of why _I_ have to be there,” Youji says, “but why exactly do my sons have to suffer too? I’d rather not involve Yukio or Ryouta.”

Masaomi nods, as if he had been anticipating this question. “Are you familiar with the concept of the Judas goat?”

Youji stares at him for a very long time. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“The Judas goat is an old practice used in slaughterhouses. You keep one pet goat happy and fed, so that it’s calm and happy demeanor can help keep the other, more unfortunate goats, calm and unsuspecting. I need your boys there as Judas goats, calm and happy, so that Furihata will feel at ease when he’s visiting.”

“So that you can _slaughter_ him?” Youji yelps.

Masaomi purses his lips. “Alright, I admit my analogy has some flaws.”

“Earlier he was comparing himself to a fairy tale witch making a house out of candy to lure lost children,” Akane says helpfully.

“Oh, Christ,” Youji says, burying his face in his hands. “I changed my mind, this can’t happen.”

“Youji! You can’t back out of this just because I’m bad at analogies! It’s going to be _fun. I promise_ there will be no slaughtering. There will be no eating of children of any kind in this visit, just to be clear. This is important!”

“It’s the fact that all your analogies revolve around slaughter and cooking that disturbs me.”

Masaomi just gives Youji a very pointed look

Youji sighs. It _is_ important. But he’s still 98% sure this is going to be a disaster. “And why just my older boys?”

“This is not a day care,” Masaomi says.

“Mizuki is in high school now. And what exactly am I supposed to do with them for a week? Leave them some kibble and crack the windows?”

“I’ll pay for a nanny,” Masaomi says, rolling his eyes. “This is going to be a classy vacation amongst adults, having open and frank decisions about cabbages and kings.”

Youji makes yet another sound that’s across between a sigh and a groan. “OK. I can’t _make_ them, but I’ll ask them if they want to come.”

Masaomi hesitates and then ventures, “Actually, if you could maybe, uh, keep this as a pleasant surprise from Ryouta, I would really appreciate that. I’d prefer if this didn't get back to Seijuurou.”

“You haven’t _told_ him?!” Youji exclaims.

“He would Order me to stop!”

“Oh god,” Youji says again. “How—” and then he stops as he considers a series of things. 1) There’s no way Masaomi could get Furihata to agree to keep this a secret from Seijuurou and 2) Youji really, really doesn’t want to know how Masaomi is maneuvering that particular aspect of this entire terrible plan.

“Just to be clear, I am doing this for Furihata,” Youji says, “and because I am pretty sure this will end in murder and cops showing up if I’m _not_ there.”

“Fair,” Masaomi allows.

“But for Christ’s sake, Masaomi, you better be on your _best_ behavior.”

“My absolute best! I will be very witty and charming.”

Youji really wishes he found that more reassuring. “Akane-san? Will you be joining us for this fiasco?”

“No,” Akane says, arching a brow, “I will be somewhere very public, creating an indisputable alibi for when someone inevitably pushes Masaomi-san into an oven.”

Youji sighs. “You’re a much wiser person than I.”

“The two of you are not allowed to gang up on me,” Masaomi pouts. “It’s very unfair.”

*

As much as he hates to admit it, Youji sees the value in keeping this as a surprise for Seijuurou. Youji has no doubt that Seijuurou _would_ put a stop to it, one way or another, and as poor of a plan as it is, Youji thinks it’s something that should happen. Spending a week in Seijuurou and Furihata’s company should be enough to resolve any doubts about their relationship.

So that means he _shouldn’t_ tell Ryouta. The Miracles _do_ tend to defer to Seijuurou in all things, and Ryouta would probably feel obligated to warn him about what is coming. Youji hates hiding this, but he decides not to tell Ryouta the full details.

But, after some debate with himself, he figures Yukio _should_ know what’s going on. At least part of it. And if Yukio went along with it, Ryouta would follow his lead. (Youji tries very hard not to think about Judas goats.)

Yukio, to his intense surprise, listens to the line, “How would you like to spend a week at a billionaire’s house with me and your boyfriend” and doesn’t immediately question his father’s sanity. Yukio’s uncharacteristic calm emboldens Youji to continue with the explanation that Masaomi hasn’t met Furihata, but he was concerned about the relationship, so he wanted other people around to act as a buffer.

At any moment, Youji is expecting Yukio to react with anger or justifiable confusion. He expects to have to field a barrage of questions— _why_ is he concerned? Why is he asking _your_ help? Why do _I_ have to get involved?—but the questions never came.

Instead, Yukio just says, “Alright.”

“Alright?” Youji repeats. He waits for any kind of follow up question. Like, _why can’t we tell Kise what we’re doing?_ When he _still_ doesn’t say anything, Youji ventures, “Uh, honestly kid, I expected you to put up more of a fight about this.”

Yukio shrugs. “I figure you wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Youji feels a familiar twinge of guilt. He’s asked Yukio to do _so_ much. Maybe it’s just something Yukio is used to by now. He clears his throat to give him time to compose himself, and then he says, “You know Furihata-kun?”

“We’ve met a few times,” Yukio says. “I wouldn’t say I know him _well,_ but he seems like a good kid.”

“Right! I’ve always thought so.” Youji pauses and then says, “So… do you think he’s happy? In his relationship?”

“That’s not exactly something we sit around talking about,” Yukio frowns. “But yeah. I never got the impression that he isn’t.”

“Hmm,” Youji says. Yukio is usually pretty good about judging people (although he was very bad at recognizing what was right in front of him, considering how oblivious he had been to Ryouta’s feelings). But then, Masaomi isn’t the kind of person who made mountains out of mole hills. If Masaomi thought there was a possibility Furihata wasn’t in the relationship consensually, he must have had a reason.

But. That’s why Youji agreed to this insane plan. So he could find out for himself what kind of relationship Seijuurou and Furihata have.

“Honestly. Yukio, I really would have thought you’d resist more,” Youji remarks, mostly to shake himself out of his speculations.

“He’s your friend, right?” Yukio says. When Youji stares at him he clarifies, “Akashi-san?”

“Er,” Youji says, “yes.”

Yukio nods, and it’s kind of unsettling, because Youji gets the feeling that maybe he _knows_ something…and that is impossible, surely.

*

“I can’t believe you guys are OK with this!” Kyo shouts. “What kind of double standard is this? You never let _me_ spend a _weekend_ at my girlfriend’s house in high school, much less a whole _week._ ”

For once, Furihata is actually really hoping Kyo’s indignation will have some sway over their parents. He’s been texting Akashi about this whole getaway, and while Akashi _seems_ OK with this plan, Furihata still remembers how adamant he’d been that Furihata never interact with Masaomi. So all things considered, if Kyo can convince their parents that Furihata shouldn’t go on this trip, that would be a big help.

“That’s because _you_ always tried to spend the night when the girl’s parents were out of town,” their mother says archly. “Akashi-san himself personally extend this invitation and guaranteed he would chaperone the entire time.”

“If any of my girlfriend’s parents had been billionaires, would that have made it OK to spend the night?” Kyo asks dryly.

“Kyo! It has nothing to do with how rich the Akashi family is!” their mother says.

“Although they are _very_ rich,” their father remarks. “Good job, Kouki.”

“Ugh,” Furihata says, burying his face in his hands. He can’t believe they’re having this conversation.

“This still seems very hypocritical,” Kyo grumbles.

“I wouldn’t want to be unfair,” Furihata ventures, because it doesn’t sound like Kyo is going to win this one, and he still needs his parents to forbid this from happening.

“Nah, it’s OK, Kouki,” Kyo sighs dramatically. “You have fun at your rich boyfriend’s house. I hear Akashi Masaomi’s estate is _massive._ Take pictures.”

“Sure,” Furihata says weakly, internally despairing that even _Kyo_ is caving on this.

*

“I was just giving the parents a hard time,” Kyo says, leaning in Furihata’s doorway as Furihata packs. “I hope you have fun.”

“Yeah,” Furihata says glumly.

“You… _do_ want to go on this trip, don’t you?”

“I guess,” Furihata says. Kyo is obviously trying to be a more supportive brother. Given how difficult he’s been about Furihata’s relationship with Akashi, Furihata doesn’t want to discourage this, although he does wish Kyo’s timing had been better. “I mean—it’s a little weird, right?”

“Sure,” Kyo says, “but I guess it makes sense.”

“ _Does_ it? How?” Furihata wishes someone could explain it.

Kyo coughs, then enters the room, shutting the door behind him. “So, like, do you need condoms? ‘Cuz I know supermarkets don’t always sell to—”

“Kyo!” Furihata exclaims, “Oh god, _stop,_ _no!_ ” He considers himself on fairly close terms with his older brother, but he’s _not_ having this discussion with him.

“So you have them?”

“No! We don’t need them!”

“No, I’m pretty sure you do. I thought maybe gay guys didn’t, but Minoru said there were other issues and made a pretty big deal about it, so—”

“I mean we’re not having sex!” Furihata is so red right now he really wishes he could die.

“ _Seriously?_ ” Kyo exclaims. “But you’ve been dating for months now. I thought…” he trails off, perhaps hitting the point in the conversation where even _he_ thought this was too much to discuss with his little brother.

“I mean, we’re long distance, so,” Furihata mumbles. He’s not sure how to say that if it had been up to _him_ they’d have had sex a long time ago. Pretty much after their first date, really. But anytime things got even remotely close to third base, Akashi tended to pull back, and Furihata is beginning to think maybe Akashi doesn’t _want_ to have sex with him.

But. This is not a conversation he is going to have with his brother. Ever.

“And anyway, his _dad_ will be there,” Furihata says.

“That, uh, just means you have to be quiet, it’s still possible—yeah, OK, I’m stopping, I’m stopping. I still feel like maybe you should take the condoms though.”

“I’m good, really,” Furihata says, because he has watched one too many sitcoms where the accidental discovery of condoms has been a plot point for that idea to even remotely seem like a good one.

Kyo tilts his head at him, and in a different voice, he says, “You don’t have to go, you know. If you want to, you know, suddenly come down with a cold or something…”

“I do, I do want to go,” Furihata says, although he _had_ been wondering if he could conceivably pretend to be sick. The thought of seeing Masaomi again makes him slightly queasy, and he can’t help but feel like this trip is going to be incredibly awkward. But things have been…weird…between him and Akashi lately, and he wants to fix that, so he’s going on this awkward trip for no other reason but to fight for his relationship.

“But, like, if I text you or something, you can—”

“Pretend there’s a family emergency you urgently need to be home for?” Kyo suggests.

“Yes, exactly,” Furihata says.

“On it.”

“Thanks.”

*

“So, Seijuurou, what are your plans for the holiday weekend?” Masaomi asks over breakfast, sipping his coffee.

The question, in and of itself, is a harmless one. But there’s something about the way Masaomi phrases the question that makes Akashi pause and feel a flash of wariness. “As with all my holiday weeks, I intend to train with my basketball club.”

“Still need to do that, do you? Really, Seijuurou, if you’re not the best by now I hardly think a week is going to drastically improve the situation.”

“Your statement only underscores the fact that you clearly never participated in any athletic clubs when you were younger, father.”

“I had so many more important things to do than physical exertion,” Masaomi replies loftily.

“So you admit you were weak in physical areas,” Akashi replies, feeling very smug, as he had been ever since he discovered the photos of Masaomi in his younger years.

“I admit no such thing,” Masaomi replies. “At any rate, please inform your basketball club that you will be unavailable for a very important business meeting I am conducting over dinner today and it is essential that you be there, both as my heir and my Chief Financial Officer.”

A flash of irritation spreads as Akashi suppresses the urge to scowl. It is not the first time Masaomi has sprung a “very important business meeting” on him, but Hinamori Akane is usually able to mitigate the last-minute nature of these sort of things. (When she can. Masaomi has a tendency to spring these kinds of things on _both_ of them. Hinamori Akane is one of Akashi Industries’ highest paid employees and often Akashi thinks she is not making enough to sufficiently cover the hazards of having to manage Masaomi’s schedule.)

“You have always stressed the importance of personal responsibility in leadership roles, Father. I cannot abandon my team just because you wish it.”

“I _suppose_ not, but really, Seijuurou, sometimes being a good leader means trusting your team to carry on without you. If they can’t perform their best when you’re not there, how can you ever truly trust their best when you are?”

This is one of those statements that sounds wise, but Akashi suspects Masaomi just makes up on the fly.

“At any rate, I have already made arrangements with your coach and school. If you’re not here, millions of Akashi Industries employees might go bankrupt, and you don’t want that on your conscience.”

“I assure you, I wouldn’t lose a moment’s sleep over it,” Akashi says, vaguely irritated because he knows his father won this round, and he does hate it whenever Masaomi ends up with more points.

“Is that the attitude of the future President and CEO?” Masaomi demands.           

“I will blame all feelings on my predecessor, when I pose my hostile takeover,” Akashi retorts.

“Ah, you do have a keen sense for business. I’m proud of you. At any rate, wear a suit, this is a formal business dinner.”

As irritating as the whole situation is, Akashi doesn’t think too much about it.

Until the guests arrive.

*

“Oh good,” Masaomi says when the doorbell rings. “Our guests have started to arrive. Go greet them, will you, Seijuurou?”

Akashi sends his father a vaguely annoyed look, “Why aren’t _you_ in a suit, father?”

“I’m waiting for dinner,” Masaomi replies. “You never want to look your best right away. It makes your entrance more dramatic later.”

Akashi snorts, now certain that Masaomi just makes these things up as he goes along, and then he moves to open the front door—

Only to see his boyfriend standing on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” Akashi hisses, panic rising. He feels his “other” self just beneath the surface, ready to take control in the face of danger.

“Am I early?” Furihata asks, looking confused. “Should I be wearing a suit? I didn’t pack one.”

“ _Pack_ one?” Akashi repeats, only now taking in the duffle bag in Furihata’s hand and the chauffeur standing off to the side. One of Masaomi’s—he must have driven Furihata here.

“Because I’m staying the week?” Furihata says, growing alarmed. “Akashi—we’ve been _texting_ about this—haven’t we? Oh god, who have I been texting?”

All of the sudden, a very clear picture starts to form. There are too many warring instincts about how to handle this—Furihata’s safety is his top priority, but he also wants to neutralize any threats, perhaps by dispatching the enemy immediately. But Furihata is getting nervous, and the important thing now is to ensure that Furihata remains calm.

“It must have been Seijuurou,” Akashi replies calmly. He doesn’t want Furihata to think he’s not in control of the situation, and this is one of those rare occasions in which having a second self is incredibly convenient.

“Really?” Furihata says doubtfully. “I can usually tell the difference between you—and I _thought_ you seemed odd, but—”

Akashi vows to steal Furihata’s phone later to compare texts—since _he has been_ texting Furihata lately, and clearly they were not having the same conversation.

A fury he barely knew himself capable of nearly overpowers him. He has never been the kind of person who rages; the last time he felt this level of anger, Furihata had been shot and Akashi took complete control of the man who shot him.

“Ah, Furihata-kun! I am so glad you’re here! It’s lovely to see you again,” Masaomi says, coming up from behind Akashi.

‘ _Again,’_ Akashi’s mind fixates on the important word in that sentence.

“Oh, um, right,” Furihata says, glancing nervously at Akashi.

“I hope you’re excited for a fun-filled week!” Masaomi says cheerfully.

 _‘Week,’_ Akashi once again fixates on the important word in that sentence.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Masaomi says. “Seijuurou, take your boyfriend’s luggage like a proper gentleman.”

It’s a testament to how rattled he is that Akashi just automatically takes Furihata’s suitcase.

*

In the spare minutes where Furihata unpacks his duffle bag, Akashi manages to corner his father.

“Am I to understand you have forfeited our battle, Father? You met Furihata on your own?”

It is important that Akashi remain calm and unconcerned. After the initial shock of this sudden turn of events, Akashi desperately tries to regain control of the situation. He doesn’t know how bad it is yet—he doesn’t know if Masaomi knows about Furihata’s immunity or if this is just some attempt to gain the psychological upperhand over Akashi. Until he knows what Masaomi’s motives are, he doesn’t want to act rashly.

“I did not!” Masaomi say triumphantly. “I met Furihata quite on accident, at the JSDF base. I am surprised he didn’t mention it to you…?”

“And how can I be sure what Furihata has mentioned to me or not?” Akashi asks, refusing to be derailed. “Since you apparently hacked my phone and have been texting him in my stead.”

“Once again, Seijuurou, you are abysmally wrong. You’re off your game this morning—you’re not _rattled_ are you?”

“You are trying to tell me you _didn’t_ hack my phone?” Akashi asks with heavy skepticism.

“Of course I did, and Furihata-kun’s for that matter. But I assure you, I took great pains to ensure I was _not_ texting in either of your places. I didn’t want to end up in that awkward position of having to sext a seventeen year old boy _or_ my son. Although apparently I didn’t need to bother—do you not sext? You two _are_ dating, right? There’s sex involved?”

“I am not discussing this with you,” Akashi says, not willing to admit he doesn’t know what a sext is but also forming an educated guess based off context.

“As it happens, I created a very complicated algorithm, using a database of things you have written or said, in order to design a simplistic program that responded as you might, based off certain triggers in text conversation. And vice versa, for Furihata to you. Really, it was quite sophisticated. You two were really conversing with each other, but when certain topics came up, I made sure you were getting different versions of the same conversation.

“Incidentally, if you’re thinking of Ordering this away from my and Furihata-kun’s memory, I’ve invited other people over, so it’s just going to get needlessly complicated.”

So he _doesn’t_ know Furihata is immune. Or at least, he seems not to. Akashi isn’t going to relax just yet.

“That is quite a lot of trouble you have gone to, Father. Especially considering you _are_ losing our battle so spectacularly. I highly doubt you ‘running into’ him at the base was an accident.”

“I swear, I had no idea that meeting would take place,” Masaomi says with complete sincerity. “And since the meeting took place, I thought—well, why _not_ get to know my future son-in-law? Really, Seijuurou, this bonding will be good for all of us.”

Akashi eyes his father debating the merits of Absolute Order. He could always just _explain_ things to Furihata…

The doorbell rings again and Masaomi smiles. “That’ll be the rest of our guests now. I’ll go greet them as a proper host should. Seijuurou, I am absolutely _loathe_ to criticize your romantic behavior, but you really should go tend to your boyfriend, I imagine he is feeling very lonely and confused right now.”

Akashi glowers and thinks about how sometimes he really hates his father.

*

“Furi,” Akashi says, trying to his best to sound soothing.

“You…didn’t know I was coming, did you?” Furihata says, looking up from his place at the guest bed. He doesn’t sound injured, just resigned and a little lost. “I wasn’t really talking to Seijuurou either, was I?”

He’s holding his phone and Akashi’s fingers twitch as he desperately wants to see those conversations.

Grudgingly, he has to admit that honesty is probably the best route on this one. “No. Apparently you were talking to a computer program designed to sound like me.”

Furihata pauses for a long time before he says, “So your dad really is nuts?”

“Yes,” Akashi says, mildly relieved Furihata is catching on. “That is certainly the popular theory. Furi, did you tell— _me_ —that you had met Masaomi?”

Furihata winces. “Not exactly,” he laughs weakly. “Although, I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it? I wasn’t telling you anything.”

“If you felt like you couldn’t tell me of your first encounter, that is something that matters,” Akashi says lightly.

“No, I—it was just embarrassing, that’s all. I guess I misunderstood what was happening.”

“No,” Akashi says darkly, filled with a lot of dread about why Furihata might have found the meeting _embarrassing._ “I am certain you were not misunderstanding anything.”

“…Oh,” Furihata say quietly, and he looks down at his phone again. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t, considering…” he sighs. “Should I just leave?”

It takes every ounce of Akashi’s willpower not to say, ‘Yes, you should absolutely leave,’ because that would certainly solve his problems.

But he realizes it would only be a stopgap—if the contact has been made, then Akashi _has_ to make sure he controls this situation _now._

Also…Furihata looks so distinctly miserable that Akashi gets the sense that sending him home might be a bad idea. Well. It might be best for Furihata, but Akashi suspects it would be bad for their _relationship._ So.

“No,” he says, breathing out. “We will get through this together. But do not trust my father, Furihata. He does not have your best interests.”

“Your _dad_ ,” Furihata repeats. “But you _live_ with him.”

“Yes, but I would not inflict him on other people,” Akashi says earnestly.

“That’s, um, a little weird, Akashi.”

“Every family is different,” Akashi replies. The worrying, nagging sense in the back of his mind prompts him to reach out and hold Furihata’s hand and squeeze. “It is _good_ to see you, Furi. I will make sure nothing happens to you.”

This does not quite have the reassuring affect on Furihata that Akashi was going for. “This is, er, starting to remind me a little of that time we were both abducted by mad scientists.”

Akashi nods thoughtfully. “That is not an inaccurate comparison.”

Furihata continues to look nervous, but Akashi doesn’t get the chance to further his attempt at being calming because he hears a loud and _familiar_ voice exclaiming, “Holy _crap_ , this place is huge!”

Akashi’s eyebrow twitches and Furihata ventures to say, “So, you didn’t know Kise would be here either?”

“No,” Akashi says, and Kise is going to be in so much trouble if he knew this was happening.

*

“I didn’t know this was happening! I swear!”

Akashi eyes the other Miracle, wondering if he could believe him.

“I _swear_ , Akashicchi! I just got in the car because Senpai was in it. I had no idea where we were going! I would have warned you!”

“Are you _sure?”_ Akashi says menacingly. “If your precious Senpai had told you not to, _would_ you have told me?”

Kise squirms. “But he didn’t, so that’s not an issue.”

Akashi sighs, knowing that is probably the best he is going to get out of Kise. “Fine. You may live. But you _must_ help me run interference between my father and Furihata.”

“Absolutely,” Kise says, nodding vigorously. “Anything you want! Um, why?”

Akashi resists the urge to sigh. “Because like the Legacy, my father has an interest in certain matters, and until I know his motivations, it is best to assume he is an enemy.”

Kise blinks. Out of all the Miracles, Kise is the only one who is just as invested in the Legacy as Akashi is. “That seems a bit extreme. He’s your dad, right?”

“Do not be sentimental Kise,” Akashi snaps.

“Right,” Kise nods. “On a side note, this house is ridiculous. How rich _are_ you?”

“Extremely.”

“You’ve been holding out on us, Akashicchi,” Kise pouts and Akashi deems this not even worth a response.

“Be on the alert, Kise. We are in enemy territory.”

To his credit, Kise’s eyes sharpen as he shifts focus. While Akashi has no idea why Masaomi felt the need to invite Youji, Kasamatsu, and Kise to this madness, he fully intends to use this to his advantage.

*

The first trial is dinner, of course. It would be hard to avoid Masaomi and Furihata’s interactions over meals, but Akashi figures for the rest of the time he can maneuver things such that they have very minimal contact.

The biggest obstacle is balancing the need to protect Furihata from this man with the fact that Masaomi can’t know just how strongly Akashi feels about Furihata. It is imperative that Masaomi doesn’t know he can use Furihata against him.

Akashi surveys his available resources, namely, Kise and his family. He finds it odd that out of all the visitors, Youji is the only one who seems comfortable in his surroundings. Of course, Youji _has_ been to the house before and presumably knows how rich Masaomi is, but Akashi still files the information away as potentially useful.

“What’s the matter, kiddo,” Youji asks his son at the start of the meal. “You look confused.”

“I am,” Kasamatsu says, frowning. “I’ve been getting these weird flashes of déjà vu.”

“That’s not surprising,” Masaomi says. “You were here all the time when you were younger.”

“ _What_?” Kasamatsu exclaims, and even Akashi will admit, he finds this information… unexpected.

“My wife used to babysit you,” Masaomi continues casually. “Just to be _very_ clear: I did not. I didn't go anywhere near you in your infancy. I even left the house a couple times while you were here. But Shiori liked kids, for some bizarre reason.”

There is nothing about this revelation that Akashi does not find intriguing. For one thing, Masaomi almost never mentions his wife—he barely ever says her name. Akashi didn’t even know she existed for the longest time.

For another thing, Masaomi is not the maudlin kind of person to bring up past nostalgia. He would not be mentioning this anecdote unless he was deliberately trying to achieve something.

 _Familiarity,_ Akashi realizes. Masaomi is attempting to create a familiar atmosphere; one where everyone will feel comfortable. That is why the Kasamatsus are here—so that Masaomi can make sure Furihata feels at ease.

Kasamatsu’s eyes flick to his father, and there are probably questions he wants to ask. Akashi can see the exact moment when Kasamatsu decides to let those questions go.

“And what about you, Furihata-kun?” Masaomi says, smiling. Akashi immediately tenses.

“What?” Furihata stammers.

“Are you experiencing déjà vu too? You keep looking at me and Youji.”

“Oh, um, no,” Furihata says, blushing.

“But you keep doing it,” Masaomi wheedles, friendly-like. In his, ‘I’m harmless, I swear’ voice that no one should ever believe. “You’ve done it about four times now. Is there something on my face?”

Akashi has to keep his fists clenched underneath the table. If he intervenes over something like _this_ then Masaomi will know that teasing Furihata is a way to get underneath Akashi’s skin, and that would just be _worse_ for Furihata.

So he tries to keep calm as Furihata blushes an even more intense shade of red.

“Oh, it’s, um, nothing. I’ve just never really seen the two of you together before, and I hadn’t—that is—I’m just—” He stops, like someone who is hoping that no other explanation is needed, and that follow-up questions will not be asked.

This, naturally, doesn’t work on Masaomi, who only raises a brow and says, “There’s something odd about the two of us together?”

“Cut it out, Masaomi,” Youji says, to Akashi’s relief.

“I’m only _asking_ ,” Masaomi pouts, looking at Furihata.

The pout would not have worked on Akashi, but Furihata relents; looking down at his plate and still blushing faintly, he mumbles, “It’s just that the two of you remind me of a manga I read.”

This rather innocuous statement has two very unexpected reactions:

Youji chokes on his rice and starts coughing violently.

And Masaomi throws his head back and _howls_ in laughter.

Akashi doesn’t think he’s ever heard his father sound that delighted.

“You’ve read _Guns and Flowers!_ ” Masaomi declares, sounding positively gleeful.

“No, I haven’t!” Furihata yelps—far too quickly for _anyone_ to believe that denial.

“Yes, you have! You totally have! _Seijuurou,_ ” Masaomi breathes, still sounding like his birthday came early, “Congratulations, son, your boyfriend has truly excellent taste in porn.”

That particular statement, coming from his father, breaks Akashi’s brain a little.

He can’t even come to Furihata’s defense when Furihata desperately tries to exclaim, “It’s not porn! It’s a romance!”

“Oh, it is _so_ porn!” Masaomi says gleefully. “It’s R18, kid.”

“They always rate homosexual relationships in manga higher than in heterosexual romances. It’s not pornographic at all.” Furihata, against all logic, is arguing about porn. With Akashi’s father.

“I’ve _read_ it,” Masaomi pronounces, looking for all the world like a cat with some cream.

“…Oh,” Furihata says.

“Wait,” Youji interrupts this surreality, “wait, you said it wasn’t in circulation anymore!”

“I lied, how long have you known me?” Masaomi says.

“Masaomi!”

“Youji! I was _proud_ of my wife! It should be kept in circulation! Aren’t _you_ proud?”

“That…was not the emotion that came to mind, no,” Youji says.

“It has a really good story,” Furihata ventures.

Youji puts his face in his hands and says. “Well. That’s somewhat gratifying to hear.”

“See!” Masaomi says triumphantly. “Be more proud of your wife, man!”

“What?” Kasamatsu says, looking up. “I am so confused by all of this. What’s _Guns and Flowers?_ What does this have to do with Mom?”

“Youji!” Masaomi exclaims. “You never _told_ him?”

“No… strangely, no.  This was not something I felt the need to share with my sons,” Youji says.

“It’s, um, a yaoi manga,” Furihata puts in.

“An incredibly graphic yaoi manga!” Masaomi says cheerfully.

“It’s not _that_ graphic,” Furihata says, still blushing. “It’s censored. And anyway, it’s about a billionaire named Aoyashi Takaomi and a JSDF soldier named Kanzaki Kouji, and how they fall in love.”

“Kanzaki Kouji,” Kasamatsu repeats, looking at his father questioningly.

“The, uh, main characters also, uh, have a certain physical resemblance to—” Furihata stops.

“Also very accurate to real life,” Masaomi says serenely. “That was totally my penis too.”

“There weren’t any—it’s _censored,_ ” Furihata yelps.

“Not in my copies,” Masaomi says cheerfully. “My wife was the illustrator.”

“ _Really?_ ” Furihata exclaims, his embarrassment abruptly passing, replaced with fascination.

“And Kasamatsu Hinami wrote the story,” Masaomi adds.

“ _What?_ ” Kasamatsu says.

“Can we not discuss this? In front of the kids? Or… ever?” Youji protests.

“Nonsense, Youji. Furihata-kun brought it up, it’s not like it’s indecent.”

“You never told me that,” Kasamatsu says, sounding hurt.

Youji just looks at his eldest son with a deadened expression. “Yukio, how? How exactly was I supposed to tell you that your mother wrote a gay porn story based off me and my best friend?”

Kasamatsu stares at his father for a beat and then says, “Yeah, OK. Fair.”

“That is so _cool!”_ Kise bursts out, like he’s been trying to restrain himself this whole time. “Can I read it?”

“No!” Youji shouts.

“But I want to!” Kise pouts.

“Kid, you get the part where that’s naked _me_ in that story? Gay porn with _me_ as the protagonist?”

Kasamatsu buries his face in his hands with the air of a man who never wanted to hear that statement coming from his father. Akashi profoundly relates.

“But Senpai’s mother wrote it!” Kise says. “I want to read the story Senpai’s kickass, villain-punching, porn-writing mom wrote!”

“That’s…nice,” Youji says, his voice softening, and even Kasamatsu looks at his boyfriend with a suddenly tender expression.

“It’s a really good story, very well written,” Furihata says loyally. “Definitely one of my favorites. There’s some really bad yaoi out there.”

“Right?” Masaomi exclaims, turning to Furihata in excited glee. “So poorly written! I am appalled at the sloppiness sometimes. It’s like the mangaka think that as long as there’s lots of dicks, how they got out isn’t important.”

“The story is definitely what sells it,” Furihata agrees, and _what is even happening right now?_

“I am a bit surprised to find you a connoisseur of yaoi manga, Father,” Akashi says, keeping his voice cool and trying very hard to regain some control over this situation.

Masaomi’s focus immediately shifts to Akashi with a vaguely predatory gleam in his eyes. “As it happens, I am not just a _connoisseur_ of yaoi manga. I am an _expert_. My wife enjoyed it and let me tell you a secret about a happy sex life in your relationship, Seijuurou—”

“Please don’t,” Akashi says, but he should have made it an Order.

“If you want to make sure your partner is satisfied, read their porn. It always amazes me that more men don’t read romance novels—here’s a whole _genre_ of graphic sex written by women for women, and men all over the world aren’t bothering to take notes.

“My wife read yaoi manga, so I read yaoi manga. So if you want a happy marriage, read whatever porn your partner likes.”

“That is _brilliant_ ,” Kise breathes. “Akashicchi, you’re dad is so cool!”

“Oh lord,” Youji says, covering his eyes, which perfectly summarizes how Akashi feels about the matter. “Can we maybe _not_ give sex advice at the dinner table?”

“Youji don’t be a prude,” Masaomi says. “We’re all adults here.”

The worst thing about this, Akashi reflects, is that the advice _is_ actually good. Ordinarily, Akashi would be absolutely fascinated by the idea that there was a sex story that Furihata liked to read, and ordinarily, he would absolutely try to track down the source material as soon as possible.       

Except Furihata’s favorite is apparently modeled after Akashi’s father.

Akashi has some _incredibly_ mixed feelings about that.

“How did you even come across _that_ one?” Youji asks Furihata, slightly exasperated. “It’s really old, I can’t even believe it’s still in stores.”

“On second thought,” Masaomi rushes in, “the topic is clearly making the kids uncomfortable, and we should move on—”

“It got a resurgence in popularity after the anime came out,” Furihata says helpfully.

“There was an _anime_?!” Youji exclaims, standing up.

“Now, Youji,” Masaomi starts.

“You _knew_ that?”

“Well, yes, I own the franchise, Hinami signed it over to me, as you recall. And Shiori always wanted to see her work animated. I made sure it was a good one!”

“The OVA won an award,” Furihata offers.

“OVA?” Youji gasps.

Masaomi looks at Furihata, “You know, you’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” Furihata says, sounding meek. “Although the voice actors really should have gotten more acknowledgement.”

“Absolutely agreed,” Masaomi nods, “they got completely shafted in the anime forums.” Now Akashi is witnessing the strange phenomena of his father and his boyfriend _bonding over yaoi manga_ and he doesn’t like this at all.

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve created a fund for your boys as Hinami’s legal heirs. Even if she did sign it over to me, I wouldn’t want you to think I was cheating her kids.”

“That wasn’t—I wouldn’t—well, that’s a nice thought,” Youji finally admits, settling back into his chair. “Hear that, Yukio? You have your mother’s porn money.”

“…Great,” Kasamatsu says, dazed.

“Does that mean we can watch it?” Kise asks.

“Please keep him from watching it,” Youji says.

“The anime is a lot less graphic than the manga,” Furihata offers.

“I’ll try,” Kasamatsu says, frowning.

“I have it on DVD if we all want to watch it after dinner,” Masaomi says.

“Hard pass,” Youji says, before anyone else can speak.

“Ah, well, maybe later,” Masaomi grins. “Now, who wants dessert?”

*

After dinner, there is a temporary respite where Akashi can talk to Furihata alone in the guest bedroom that has been chosen for him. Akashi had intended to use this time to check in on Furihata, make sure that Masaomi wasn’t damaging him.

Except now they’re together and Akashi can’t stop thinking about the dinner revelations, and what he ends up blurting out is, “I didn’t know you liked reading yaoi manga.”

Which, naturally, only makes things worse, as Furihata blushes bright red and then covers his face. Akashi pulls Furihata’s hands gently down, and then holds his hands cradled in his own  palms, rubbing his thumbs along Furihata’s calluses.

“After,” Furihata clears his throat. “When I started thinking that maybe, you know, I liked boys too, I thought maybe… I should do some research? And Aya-nee-san had some manga, so she lent me some.”

“I see,” Akashi says.

“Most of it actually isn’t all that good,” Furihata says.

This is an unfortunate reminder of tonight’s conversation. “Is _that_ one really one of your favorites?”

“Er…yeah,” Furihata says, not meeting his gaze. Then he mumbles, “Aoyashi Takaomi reminded me of you.”

Which was another statement that brought on _all kinds_ of mixed feelings.

“Sorry,” Furihata adds.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Akashi says automatically. He had, after all, expected Masaomi to be a torment, it just ended up being in a completely unexpected way.

“Your father,” Furihata starts, “he’s not what you said.”

And this would never do. “No, Furi. Do not believe in his attempts to be charming.”

“That’s not quite what I meant,” Furihata says. He pauses and then adds, “It’s… interesting to think that Takaomi was based off of him. One of the things I liked best about Takaomi is how complex his character is. It kinda makes me think your dad—”

“Don’t let _fiction_ change what you know about the man,” Akashi rebukes sharply. When Furihata flinches, Akashi regrets the harshness of the tone, but he _can’t_ let Furihata underestimate Masaomi.

But Furihata doesn’t back down. He meets his gaze once again and says, “But his wife wrote Takaomi’s character. That means something, don’t you think?” Akashi falls silent. He wonders if that _does_ change anything.

After all, before he had known two things about Akashi Shiori: 1) She was brave (she would have to be, to be married to Masaomi).

And 2) Masaomi didn’t seem to like her all that much. In fact, before tonight, Akashi had assumed he must have hated her.

*

He didn’t even know Shiori had existed until he found a photo of her in the attic. He stared at it for a very long time, and when Masaomi found him he had asked, “Father, who is this woman?”

Masaomi glanced down and said, “My wife.”

“I didn’t know you had a wife,” Akashi remarked.

“I don’t. She’s dead now.” Masaomi had a strange expression on his face and then he said, “Seijuurou, don’t ever fall in love.”

“I am very am very unlikely to ever be in that situation,” Akashi replied. At the time, that had seemed like a safe assumption.

“Just as well. The people you love have too much power over you.”

“Why, Father, did this woman get the better of you?” He said, amused.

“Yes,” Masaomi said. And Akashi had to stop short, because he genuinely hadn’t expected Masaomi to ever admit that.

Masaomi took the photo and crumpled it up in his hands. “Don’t ever think the people who love you won’t hurt you, Seijuurou. The people who love you the most will rip you apart if you let them.”

*

Akashi had mostly forgot all about that until now. And he looks at Furihata and can’t help but think, _Don’t ever think the people who love you won’t hurt you._

“What is it?” Furihata asks.

Akashi leans in and kisses him gently on the mouth. Furihata’s eyes widen in surprise, but he kisses back, wrapping his arms around Akashi’s waist.

Never, Akashi vows. He will never let anything Masaomi says or does get in the way of his relationship with Furihata. The kiss deepens and Akashi wraps his hands around Furihata’s waist, pulling him in close—

“Hey, knock it off you two! I promised Furihata’s parents I’d be a proper chaperone, so keep it in your pants.”

The kiss breaks with Furihata burying his face in his hands and Akashi contemplating the merits of patricide.

Masaomi, standing out in the hallway just grins cheerfully. “Youji's still voting no on watching _Guns and Flowers_ together. I was going to suggest hitting up the onsen but I’ve decided letting the two of you be naked near each other would not be in the proper spirit of a chaperone. Anyone up for a game of poker?”

Patricide is _really_ looking more appealing by the second.

*

Murdering Masaomi is seriously looking like the only possible outcome this week, and Youji can’t even be sure he won’t be the one murdering the man. He’s looking through his smart phone—verifying that _dear God there’s actually an anime_ —when Michiru calls.

He answers with, “Did you know _Guns and Flowers_ has an anime now?”

“Are you kidding? I watched the OVA in theaters on opening night with my kids,” Michiru replies.

“You _what?!”_ Youji exclaims. “Your kids _know_ me!”

“Well, it’s not like I _told_ them Kouji was based off of you. Although Satsuki did remark that the similarities were uncanny.”

Youji once again buries his face in his hands. That’s it, he has to move somewhere no one will ever recognize him. Like Antarctica. He thinks he’d like living in Antarctica.

“Do I dare even mention how weird it is you watched porn with your children?”

“It’s not weird! I believe in having open discussions about sex with Ryou and Satsuki. And the anime isn’t even explicit. It was very artfully censored.”

“So I heard,” Youji says dryly.

“Why are you even bringing it up now? The anime’s been out for awhile.”

“I just learned about it tonight.”

Michiru cackles for a solid two minutes, which Youji finds incredibly unnecessary.

“ _Anyway_ ,” he says, as Michiru’s laughter dies down, “why are you calling?”

“To give you the details for tomorrow,” Michiru says, huffing slightly as her mirth leaves.

“Uh, what’s tomorrow?” Youji says.

“Your date! I _knew_ you’d forget!”

“My—oh,” Youji says, now remembering that he’d promised Michiru she could set him up with someone, and oh yeah, that _was_ supposed to happen tomorrow. “I can’t. I’m in Kyoto.”

“You’re in—are you at Masaomi’s house right now?”

“Yes. It’s—complicated.”

“You’re at his house,” Michiru repeats. “ _Now._ ”

“I am technically vacationing at his house,” Youji says, resenting her questioning tone because it’s not _that_ late. “I told you all about this when I dropped Ren and Mizuki at your house, remember?”

“No, no you didn’t _tell me all about this._ You said you were going on a trip with your older boys!”

“Well, yes. And I am.”

“At _Masaomi’s_ house?”

“At any rate, I assumed you’d realize all potential dates would have to be cancelled for the week,” Youji says, since _really_ that should have been obvious.

“It was always my plan to intrude on your vacation,” Michiru says. “I figured you’d use it to weasel out of it somehow.”

“I’m not going on a date while I’m—vacationing,” Youji says.

“Why not? I’m sure Ryouta and Yukio would appreciate the alone time.”

“It wouldn’t _be_ alone time. I’d be abandoning them to Masaomi’s tender mercies, and you know I can’t do that.”

“Well, see, that’s why you should have mentioned the Masaomi part sooner. I’m assuming Ryouta is there for Seijuurou, so, I don’t see what you objection is.”

The objection is Furihata, but Youji can’t explain that. Having left Furihata alone with Masaomi once already—and the disaster that occured then—means Youji really shouldn’t do that again. “I promised Masaomi I’d help him with something,” Youji says. “I can’t run out on him _now._ ”

Michiru falls silent and in a strange voice she says, “Youji, you can’t be Masaomi’s forever.”

Youji reels back, and is glad that she is not here to see his expression—he is glad no one is around to see him like this.

“If you’re serious about moving on— _really_ moving on, that you can’t keep being swept up in Masaomi’s pace.”

“That’s not—what’s happening here.” It’s strange to hear Michiru say these things. Michiru hadn’t known him in college; she’d never known a version of him that wasn’t in love with Kasamatsu Hinami. She _shouldn’t_ have any way of knowing that before Hinami, every single one of Youji’s girlfriends and boyfriends left him, using variations of the line, _I can’t keep competing with Akashi Masaomi._

She couldn’t know that—right?

It is too horrifying to consider that perhaps Hinami felt that way too. But surely she wouldn’t have. He’s _sure_ she wouldn’t have, but the thought makes him sick anyway.

“It wouldn’t work anyhow,” Youji says, his voice gruff. He’s all too aware that Michiru hasn’t said anything, that she clearly doesn’t believe him when he says it’s different and he can’t get away. (And who knows—maybe she’s right.) “I’m in Kyoto, and I can’t get back to Tokyo for whatever you have planned—”

“He can meet you in Kyoto,” Michiru says, sounding like she’s trying really hard to keep the triumph out of her voice. “That’s the best part, he’s totally able to meet you anywhere!”

“Why?” Youji says suspiciously.

“He’s wanted this set-up for a while now. I’ve just been holding off because I knew you wouldn’t be interested. But this is why it’s so perfect! He’s exactly your type! He’s like a super billionaire.”

“That isn’t my type—wait, how do _you_ know a billionaire?”

“Why do you say it like that? I know people.”

“Not billionaire people.”

“ _You_ have a billionaire friend, why can’t I?”

“Masaomi is an exception in many ways,” Youji says. “What the hell, Michiru? I don’t believe you have a billionaire friend. You would have told me by now.”

“No, I told you, I figured since you wouldn’t be interested in him, there was no point in mentioning it. But Everett’s a really nice guy! He’s not like Masaomi at all, and I think he’d be a perfect start for getting back into the dating game.”

“I’m not sure I want to date a billionaire, that’s a lot of pressure,” Youji says, thinking about all the ways he really doesn’t want to go on this date.

“I’m not going to let you back out of this,” Michiru says, with the same firm conviction Youji has heard her use on enemy combatants. “I will use every dirty trick I know. Remember, I have your younger kids, that means I have hostages.”

“Is _that_ why you agreed to babysit?” Youji yelps.

“I believe in having backup plans. I will also show up in Kyoto _myself_ if I have to.”

He believes her. And that’s absolutely something he doesn’t want to explain to his kids _or_ Masaomi. “If I agree to this and it goes terribly, can we agree to never do this again?”

“Sure, for at least a month.”

He is deeply regretting ever mentioning dating to Michiru.

*

“Who was that?” Masaomi says, coming down the stairs into the den where Youji has camped out.

“Michiru,” Youji replies. “She’s looking after Mizuki and Ren.”

“I’d have bought a nanny,” Masaomi says.

Youji winces at Masaomi’s phrasing—he’s _pretty sure_ Masaomi doesn’t talk about buying people on purpose, but there’s really no guarantee—and says, “I felt better leaving them with someone I know. They like Michiru and her kids, so it’s a win all around.”

“Hmph,” Masaomi says, plopping down on the couch next to Youji. “You know, none of the kids wanted to join me for card games? They all said they need to settle in for the night.”

“After all that open discussion about porn at the dinner table?” Youji says, arching a brow. “You shock me.”

Masaomi grins, sort of lopsided. “Kids these days embarrass way too easily. Anyway, I felt better about it. Looks like Furihata had some interest in guys after all.”

Youji blinks, remembering now that had been one of Masaomi’s concerns—that Furihata was heterosexual. He’s _almost_ impressed, but there’s really no way Masaomi could have planned this particular revelation. But at least Masaomi genuinely _is_ trying to ascertain whether or not Furihata is in the relationship willingly.

“I can’t imagine it’s going to be good for their relationship that Furihata has read porn where the main character was based on you,” Youji says.

Masaomi just laughs evilly. “I _know_. I’m going to have _so much_ fun tormenting Seijuurou about that later.”

Youji shakes his head, but decides it’s best if he doesn’t comment. He looks at Masaomi— studying his face very closely—as he says, “You could have told me.”

Because he is watching closely, he can see Masaomi freeze for half a second and the mask carefully fall in place. “Does it really bother you that much?”

“‘Bother’ is not quite the right word,” Youji says thoughtfuly, fascinated by Masaomi’s reaction. “I was never _bothered_ by it, although I would much rather my sons never learned of its existence. I guess I’m curious why _you_ were interested in keeping it in circulation.”

“I told you,” Masaomi says, a soft lilt to his voice that surprises Youji. “Shiori always wanted to see it animated. I did it for her.”

Which is something Youji would understand, except for how Masaomi’s treated Shiori’s memory these past many years.

“Just say it,” Masaomi says.

“Alright,” Youji says calmly. “You’ve never cared what Shiori wanted after she died. I assumed you stopped caring at all.”  
  
Masaomi’s smile is an ugly grimace. “You would be surprised to learn how much I have tried to respect her final wishes.”

Youji looks away first. There are too many questions, too many things he never understood. And he doesn’t want to ask those questions now, he doesn’t want to dwell so much in the past. He’s desperate to change the subject, but Masaomi speaks first.

“I was mad at her.”

Youji has to look at him again, just to see his face.

“For a very long time,” Masaomi continues. “I couldn’t forgive her.”

“For what?” Youji says, confused and scared of the answer.

“For dying.”

“But—” Youji says, feeling like he’s on unsteady ground. “That wasn’t her fault.”

Masaomi shakes his head, his lips tight. “It was exceptionally cruel of her. Or at least, I thought so. I think I understand her better now. And I’ve been trying to—not _honor_ her, I guess. But maybe I’m trying to show her I understand, finally.”

None of that makes any sense. But then, Youji supposes it doesn’t have to—not to him. There are some things even the closest friends don’t get to trespass upon, and this is one of them. Whatever happened between Masaomi and Shiori in her final days is none of his business.

Changing the subject seems like the best course of action.

“So? Did tonight put your mind at ease?”

“In some ways,” Masaomi says consideringly, and Youji thinks he must be glad for the subject change as well. “I am _fairly_ certain Seijuurou is not Ordering him into the relationship.”

“That’s good of you,” Youji says, trying not to sound _too_ sardonic.

“It was a justifiable concern,” Masaomi says pointedly, not appreciating Youji’s tone. “Frankly, I always tonight _you_ were being a little too lax, considering you took a lust-ridden teenager obsessed with your oldest son and decided they could share a bedroom.”

Youji laughs, mostly because he can’t believe _Masaomi_ is criticizing him for how he handled the Ryouta-Yukio situation. Michiru had some very sharp words concerning the subject, and so did a few of the other parents. It’s hard to picture Masaomi giving the same kind of responsibility lecture.

“I knew Ryouta would never cross any lines,” Youji says.

Masaomi shakes his head. “You couldn’t have _known_ that. You assumed, because _you_ would never cross any lines, that _he_ would not. That’s not the kind of faith others can depend upon.”

Youji is about to start his typical response to the accusations that he’d been too lax of a chaperone for hormonal teens when he considers the way Masaomi says that. He frowns, thinking it through. “You doubted Seijuurou,” he says slowly, “because you’ve doubted yourself.”

Masaomi looks away and the fact that he doesn’t respond is confirmation enough. “Masaomi, _you_ would never—why would you even think that?” Youji cries, dismayed at his friend’s logic.

Masaomi smiles bitterly. “I _have_ never, thank all the gods, ever done such a reprehensible thing. But,” his lips twist into an ugly grimace. “I used to be very cruel to people I dated. The line separating the difference between one cruelty and another is not something you can count on. I know myself too well to think that it couldn’t happen.”

“ _It_ _couldn’t happen,_ ” Youji says, grabbing Masaomi’s arm. “Why would you even think that? Masa-chan, that isn’t _you._ ”

“You think too well of me,” Masaomi says. “You always have. I’m not a nice person, Youji. That’s perhaps why it is easy for me to imagine others aren’t either.”

Youji shakes his head, releasing Masaomi’s arm. People always thought the worst of Masaomi, and sometimes it was easy for his friend to believe in that impression of him. “I know you, Masa-chan. You _are_ a good person. And so is Seijuurou. You don’t have anything to worry about regarding your son.”

“Maybe,” Masaomi says enigmatically. Then he shifts his tone, dropping the heavy atmosphere the conversation had turned to and returning to a more casual tone. “But I do believe they’re all wrong for each other. I’m probably going to have to seperate them for their own good.”

“First—no. Don’t do that. No parent in the history of ever has successfully done that. Second, good lord, _why_?”

“I won’t do anything until the week is up,” Masaomi concedes. “I’m willing to admit I don’t have all the relevant facts yet. But they’re no good for each other.”

“Even if that _is_ true, that’s not your call to make,” Youji says. “And it will just be creepy if you interfere.”

“Nonsense, Youji. I have never agreed with your hands off approach to parenting. Teenagers need guidance.”

“How successful would someone have been if they’d tried to tell _you_ that you were in love with the wrong person at seventeen?”

Masaomi inclines his head. “I’ll grant you that, although I wouldn’t have presumed to _be_ in love at seventeen. I was smarter than that.”

“Is that what you call dating anyone in a short skirt?” Youji asks and Masaomi just laughs. Youji gives him sidelong glance and he should probably drop it, but… “What exactly has you so convinced they’re not good for each other?”

Masaomi’s face sobers, and not for the first time, Youji wishes he knew what the other man is thinking. He feels like there’s something there that’s beyond his reach, and Youji has the sudden urge to reach out and hold onto Masaomi for fear that he’ll drift far away.

“Do you know why I loved Shiori?” Masaomi asks, surprising Youji once again. But he doesn’t wait for an answer, Masaomi carries on with, “Because she was the ocean. I was always so far above everyone and she was the only person where none of that mattered. She always challenged me but we were never competing. She’d already won everything.

“That kid? He will never challenge Seijuurou. Seijuurou will always know that he’s better in every way possible. And _that’s_ why that relationship will never work.”

Youji grew up in a household where he always had to hide what he was feeling. He’s normally an expressive guy, so most people don’t realize it when he’s hiding so perfectly what it is he’s feeling. Masaomi can usually tell when he’s wearing a mask, but Masaomi isn’t fully paying attention right now, and for that Youji is glad.

It _hurts._ He’s surprised by how much it hurts. Not just for himself, but also for Masaomi.

“Some people don’t want an ocean,” Youji says quietly. “Some people want a safe harbor.”

Masaomi snorts derisively, sending another unexpected aching pang. “That’s sentimental drivel. That might work for _some_ people, but not for people like Seijuurou.”

“People like you,” Youji says, his voice flat.

Masaomi finally looks at him again. “This upsets you.”

Youji sighs and just shakes his head. “I don’t think this is something we’re going to agree on, Masa-chan.”

“Love shouldn’t be _safe,_ ” Masaomi says, and he pronounces the word like it’s something terrible.  Synonymous with _lukewarm_ or _boring_ and if that’s the case, Youji doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get Masaomi to understand why some people might need a love that saves.

“You’re talking about her a lot lately,” Youji says, as a way of changing the topic.

Masaomi allows the transition. “I’ve been thinking a lot about her lately.”

It doesn’t seem like Masaomi is going to volunteer anymore information, so Youji drops the subject.

“I guess I should hit the sack,” Youji says, getting to his feet.

“It’s barely nine,” Masaomi says.

“Some of us wake up early, Masa-chan.”

“You’re such an old man now,” Masaomi says.

“Yes, that’s right,” Youji says. “I’m incredibly boring now.”


	4. Chapter 4 ~Then~

It is not Hinami’s philosophy to ever walk away when someone else is being beaten in front of her, not even when she discovers the current victim is Yamazaki Youji.

“Fucking fight back, you _coward,_ ” says a burly man who kicks Youji in the ribs. But Youji, already very bruised, doesn’t get up.

Hinami moves to catch the attacker in a hold before he can strike again. “That’s enough,” she growls when he struggles against her.

He’s bigger and heavier than her, but clearly an amateur. She has trained in various martial arts since she was in middle school, and it is not hard to restrain him.

The man continues to struggle, as if he doesn’t see her, “You tell your goddamn _friend_ I’m coming for him.”

“Well, that’s clearly not true,” Youji says, from the ground, moving to a sitting position and feeling his face around the various cuts. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gone for me first.”

“You—you shut up! Fucking Akashi, he just—he needs to just fucking _die_ —”

“That’s enough,” Hinami says more firmly. “Walk away.”

“He used her,” the man sniffles as he slumps, finally accepting that he won’t be able to keep hitting Youji. “Akashi just—ruined her. It’s so messed up.”

“That’s no reason to keep hitting a man who’s not fighting back,” Hinami says, keeping her voice resolute, although she’s fairly certain Masaomi deserves to get his ass kicked.

“It’s just so messed up,” the man repeats, but eventually he walks away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

Hinami turns her attention to Youji, eyeing him askance. “Do you need a hospital?”

Youji looks up at her and smiles like the sun has come out. “Senpai, you saved me. You actually _did_ save a smug asshole like me.”

Hinami frowns, but it comes back to her suddenly that he’s referring to what she told him when they first met.

_I’d save anyone. Whether they’re perverts, Mother Theresa, or smug assholes like you, I will save anyone who needs help._

It bothers her somewhat that he remembers their first conservation, although she doesn’t quite know why. She bends down to help him up, and Youji takes her hand, releasing it instantly once he’s standing again.

“So? What was that about?” she asks, her voice gruff.

Youji shrugs. “Masaomi stole his girlfriend, I think. And then dumped her. I’m not sure why he cares that her heart is broken.”

_Of course you don’t,_ Hinami stops herself from saying. He looks like he’s been through a meat grinder, and she doesn’t feel like rubbing salt into his wounds. “So? Why was he attacking _you?_ ”

“Oh. People are scared to attack Masa-chan, I think. Because he’s rich, or something.”

“You’re rich,” she says.

“No, I’m really not,” Youji says, smiling in a lopsided sort of way. “I just live off Masa-chan’s generosity. I’d be a penniless, homeless bum without Masa-chan.”

She raises both her brows at this revelation. It seems too impossible to be true. Youji wears designer clothes; he has an expensive wristwatch and schoolbag. Surely, Masaomi couldn’t have paid for _all_ of it.

“You didn’t fight back,” Hinami says, raising her voice so that it functions as a question as well as an observation, ignoring Youji’s rather outlandish claim for now. She’s never actually seen Youji fight, she’s only heard rumors that he _can_. She’s always been inclined to believe those particular rumors, though. He always gave the impression as someone who could hold his own in a fight.

“I thought maybe he’d feel better if he got to hit someone,” Youji says simply.

“And why—” she has to bite her tongue to keep her from finishing, _Why do_ you _have to be Akashi Masaomi’s whipping boy?_ “Nevermind. I don’t care. You don’t seem to need a hospital.” She turns and starts walking away, because she really wants to stay as far away from Masaomi and Youji as possible.

“Wait,” Youji says, jogging to catch up with her. “Can I spend the night at your place?”

Hinami lets out one sharp burst of laughter and says, “No. Are you serious? Of course not!”

“Please?” Youji says, and he looks genuinely forlorn. “I—don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You have a penthouse.”

“Yeah, but,” Youji says, casting his eyes down. Then he mumbles, “I don’t want to go home like this. Masaomi won’t like it.”

Hinami opens her mouth to once again ask if he’s crazy but what he says catches up with her and it fills her with a kind of sick cold. All of the sudden she starts to think maybe Masaomi really _does_ pay for all of Youji’s things. _Masaomi won’t like it._

He says it like it’s so natural and it reminds Hinami of women she’s met in abusive relationships. Maybe Youji really _is_ Akashi Masaomi’s whipping boy.

“Forget it,” Youji says, smiling and then wincing because his lower lip is cut. “I’ll ask Shiori, it’s OK—”

“Don’t you dare, she has to study for a test tomorrow,” Hinami snaps.

“Oh, right. Well, the library is open late, I can—”

“ _Fine_ , you can stay over,” Hinami says, against all her better judgement. “But you’d better be on your _best_ behavior.”

“I’ll be a saint,” Youji says, looking relieved and happy.

“I have a boyfriend,” she blurts out, not entirely sure why but feeling like it was something that needed to be said.

“Yeah, I know,” Youji says, his smile fading slightly. Then he brightens again, “I’m only after your couch. I promise you won’t even notice I’m there.”

*

To his credit, Youji does his best to remain true to his word, but Hinami finds it impossible to forget he is there. It is too strange of a phenomenon. She takes her shower and bath and keeps thinking about how Yamazaki Youji is in her house and it’s _embarrassing._

She remembers what she said, _I have a boyfriend,_ like that was something that even needed to be clarified. Remembering it fills her with an incredible amount of embarrassment, almost to the point where she wishes to drown in her bathtub, but then she reminds herself that it’s _Yamazaki Youji_ and she doesn’t need to be embarrassed because he doesn’t matter.

When she comes back out—clean and fully dressed—she sees Youji sitting on her couch staring off into space. “Yamazaki? Do you need the shower?”

“Youji,” he says automatically, jolting out of his reverie. “I really wish you’d call me Youji.”

“Not going to happen,” she snorts. “Shower? Or a spare shirt or anything?”

“You’re very kind,” Youji says with a tired smile. “No, I’m fine, Senpai. I just needed somewhere to crash for the night.”

“You don’t—look great,” she says carefully, which is a polite way of saying, ‘You look like someone beat the shit out of you.’ His face is heavy with cuts and bruises, and he holds himself stiffly, like someone who has been kicked repeatedly in the ribs. “Maybe you should go to a hospital after all.”

“I heal fast,” Youji says softly, and the statement makes her sad. “You have a lovely home.”

The pronouncement would chafe ordinarily—it’s something that sounds condescending coming from someone who lives in a penthouse. But she’s still thinking through the earlier revelation that Masaomi pays for everything, so she just says, “Thank you.”

“Are these your parents?” Youji asks, gesturing to her photo on the lampstand.

“Yes,” she says, in a way that she hopes end the discussion.

“You’re so young in the photo,” he says with a smile. “It’s adorable. You don’t have a more recent photo?”

“No,” she says curtly. “They’re dead.”

“Oh,” Youji says, abashed. “Did you like them?”

_“Of course,_ ” she exclaims. “I _loved_ them. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

Youji’s smile is still sort of crooked. “Oh. That’s nice. They seem nice.”

The conservation is stilted and incredibly awkward. Hinami should be heading to her bedroom and locking the door, except she ends up moving towards her couch and sitting on the other end of it staring at Youji’s beaten up form.

“No pictures of your boyfriend?” Youji asks, craning his neck to look around the room.

“Of course not!” Hinami says, blushing. “We haven’t been dating _that_ long. I would never be so shameless.”

Youji laughs. “So proper, Senpai. There’s a little shamelessness allowed, when you’re in love.”

“I’m not—” she starts, but then changes her mind and finishes with, “I’m not having this conversation with you. My relationship with Sanada-kun is none of your business.”

“Definitely not,” Youji agrees. “What do you like about him?”

“I _just_ said—” she says, exasperated. “Why does that even matter?”

Youji shrugs. “Just curious. He’s a little stuck up, don’t you think?”

“Of course not,” Hinami says, indignant. “Sanada-kun is intelligent and kind! I like that he reads.”

“Oh,” Youji says.

“And anyway, people who are friends with _Akashi Masaomi_ do not get to complain about _stuck up!”_

Youji just smiles, a fragile expression like someone on the edge of a cliff right before a fall.

“What does he have on you?” she finds herself blurting out.

He frowns at her, perplexed. “Who?”

“Akashi. What does he have on you? Is it just that he pays for everything?”

Youji pulls back, his breath hitching. “You have such a low opinion of me.”

“No, I—” she winces, realizing that she _had_ believed it, and that she was being incredibly rude. She would never be this rude to anyone else who sat broken and bleeding on her couch; it appalls her slightly that Youji brings out this side of her. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand why you stay with him.”

“I like him,” Youji says, his voice soft. “He’s my friend. My best friend. If I was living on that street and he paid for nothing, I would still want to be his friend.”

She looks at him and realizes in a slow and appalled way that he means it.

“He doesn’t give a damn about you,” Hinami says bluntly, aware that she is being rude again, but unable to stop herself.

Youji just tilts his head. “You think so.”

“He doesn’t care about _anyone,_ ” Hinami says, clenching her fists. “He told me _himself_ that he would cut down anyone who got in his way, even his own parents. And I believe him.”

Youji laughs, which Hinami doesn’t expect. “Yes, I believe that, too. But to be fair, I don’t think Masa-chan liked his parents much.”

Hinami looks away again. “My mother once said you could tell a lot about a man by how he treats the people around him. A man who disrespect his parents, his teachers, or his peers is not someone you could ever expect to truly respect you.”

She stops talking, because she’s not sure why she’s telling Youji this. Except… she’s spent this entire time thinking Youji and Masaomi were a team of evil; the same kind of terrible. But now she wonders if Youji is just another one of Masaomi’s victims—the people duped into thinking that Akashi Masaomi cares for them. And if that’s the case, then she has been very unfair to him.

“Everyone...everyone thinks the worst of him,” Youji says, his voice incredibly gentle. “And sometimes, I think even he believes what people say of him. Sometimes I think he deliberately tries to play into their expectations. But Akashi Masaomi is a good man.”

Hinami has to turn her head and stare at him. She stares at him for a very long time and thinks, _My god, he actually believes that._

*

“I can’t believe you came!” Masaomi laughed. “You came running like some sort of dog.”

“Bow wow,” the girl snuggling up to his neck said. “Well, she _is_ a bitch.”

Hinami refused to be humiliated by this man and woman. Masaomi sent her a letter— _Come to the rooftop of the library or something bad will happen_. And she came because she believed the threat. But in the end, it was just Masaomi making out with his latest girlfriend.

Said girlfriend had been busy telling everyone in the dorms that Hinami had tried to make out with her. That she was an “aggressive lesbo” and everyone should watch out. It was the kind of rumor that people always said about Hinami and in the end it just made her sad that people thought the suggestion of liking other women was something that could be used as an insult.

The girl had done other things—tacks in the shoes, tripping her, grade school stuff like that. Hinami ignored it precisely because it was so juvenile. When she heard the women was dating Masaomi, she figured it made sense for two awful people to flock together.

“Saint Kasamatsu,” Masaomi said, not taking his eyes off her, “who saves everyone. Tell me, Saint Kasamatsu, what would it take for you _not_ to save someone?”

“I’m leaving,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Would you save her?” Masaomi said, pointing his thumb at his still giggling girlfriend. “She’s been very awful to you.”

And Hinami stopped because of the way he said that; because she already had a fear of where this was going, even if the giggling girl did not.

“I’d save _you,_ if you needed it,” Hinami said calmly.

“Would you?” Masaomi asked, tilting his head. “Would you _kill_ me? Say I was about to unleash some terrible evil, like Pandora opening the box, and you knew I was going to do it, would you kill me then? If that was the only way to stop me? Shoot me point blank, kill me cold.”

“I would stop you,” Hinami said, still keeping her voice calm and neutral. “I wouldn’t kill you.”

Masaomi smiled, cat-like. “I don’t believe in saints, Kasamatsu.”

Then, quick, quicker than Hinami was capable of processing, Masaomi was standing at the edge of the building, and he was pushing his girlfriend off the edge. The woman shrieked once and he caught her by the arm, so she was dangling and screaming.

“Well, Kasamatsu? Do you save her when she’s been so mean to you?”

And then he let go.

The girl was unsupported for the barest quarter of a second before Hinami caught her and pulled her back to solid ground. Masaomi laughed even as she whirled on him, grabbing him by his shirt collar.

“That’s it, we’re going to the police station,” she said, yanking on his arm.

“No, we’re not,” Masaomi said, a mocking lilt to his voice. “I have committed no crime.”

“You just tried to _murder_ someone!”

“Did I? How are you going to prove that? It’s my word against yours, and my word is worth ever so much more than yours.” Masaomi brushed her hands away. “I’m going to keep doing this, you know. Unless you stop me.”

She restrained herself from punching him because she could already see it now: him pressing charges against _her,_ getting _her_ kicked out of school. “Why?”

He tilted his head. “Because I want to see what you’re like broken, Kasamatsu.”

There was a girl crying at her feet, and it wasn’t the time to get into any kind of argument with Akashi Masaomi.

“You won’t,” she said, as he turned to leave. He paused to look back at her. “You won’t ever see me broken. You don’t have that kind of power.”

It was a bad idea to challenge him, but she didn’t care. He’d waged war on her and she wasn’t frightened and she wanted him to know that.

But there was a crying girl to see to, and that was more important than running after Masaomi and dragging him to a police station where he could just buy his way out of trouble. Hinami bent down to help her up, but the girl slapped her hands away.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the woman snapped. “I know what girls like you think about girls like me.”

Hinami let the “girls like you” comment slide, since the woman was having a rough night.

“You think I got what was coming to me,” she continued angrily. “You think I’m stupid because I actually thought he loved me.”

“I’m not thinking that,” Hinami said softly. “I think you should press charges.”

“Against _Akashi_?” the woman said, her voice high pitched and incredulous. She shook her head, and Hinami knew she was never going to be able to convince her.

“I really thought he loved me,” she said again, her anger fading. “But he doesn’t love anyone. I don’t think he’s capable of it.”

And since Hinami didn’t think so either, she didn’t say anything.

*

There had been other encounters after that—Masaomi deliberately provoking her to save increasingly reprehensible people. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was _trying_ to get her to kill him. But Akashi Masaomi didn’t strike her as someone who had a death wish.

Looking at the man on her couch now, she wonders how much Youji knows.

“If you want to stop me,” Masaomi had said, “you’ll have to kill me. Or tell Youji. Whichever you’d prefer.”

And that had her infuriated her too, as she thought maybe Youji’s pretend infatuation with her was the reason Masaomi was tormenting her so. But she looks at Youji and, for the first time, she sees just another person ruined by Akashi Masaomi. _I thought he loved me,_ the girl kept saying over and over again.

Hinami bets Youji thinks that too.

“You’re either incredibly blind or he’s keeping up a really good front around you,” Hinami says bluntly.

“Are those my only options?” Youji says, keeping his voice so light it sounds positively fragile.

“He’s a _child,_ ” she says, anger finally bursting from her. “A dangerous, spoiled _child_ who thinks people are objects and that he can get away with anything. Everything’s a game to him. You know he doesn’t even need to go to college, right?”

“What?” Youji says.

“He already has like, three doctorates from American universities. He doesn’t need another Bachelor’s Degree, it’s like he’s here on a _whim._ ”

Youji’s face goes blank at this information so she stops mid-tirade. He _hadn’t_ known that. It’s almost fascinating to watch how blank his face is now—like it’s some instinctive reaction to hide what he’s thinking.

“You didn’t know that,” she says.

“I am...rather dumb, in some ways,” Youji says. “I probably should have figured that out sooner.”

Hinami almost feels bad, but she _wants_ Youji to realize what a terrible person Masaomi is.

“You are wrong, though, Senpai,” Youji says as he sighs and sounds a little shaky.

“Oh?”

“Masaomi does care about me,” he says, surprising Hinami so much she jolts.

“That’s—” she stops, not sure how to even finish that sentence.

“In fact,” Youji says, and his smile is very sad, “most likely—the only certainty I have in this life is the fact that Akashi Masaomi loves me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and maybe he’ll take that as an apology for what she said, and not what she really means, which is, _I’m sorry you think that, because it isn’t true._

*

Youji isn’t there when she wakes up. He must have snuck out like a cat and the only trace that he ever existed is the neatly folded blanket on the couch and a note tucked under the photo of her parents that says, _Thank you, Senpai._

Considering she spent most of the night trying to convince him that his best friend was evil, she is not sure what he is thanking her for.

*

Masaomi comes home to the sight of Youji reading a book on the couch, and he automatically narrows his eyes, not liking what this means.

“What are you doing?” Masaomi says, plopping down on the couch next to Youji. “You don’t read.”

Youji flinches—confirming Masaomi’s dark suspicions—and says, “Yeah, I know. I wanted to see if I liked it better this time. I still don’t.”

“Who made you feel like you should read?” Masaomi returns, noting the bruises on Youji’s face, and wondering if the two events were related.

“Someone had to make me this way?” Youji says, smiling wryly.

Masaomi bites down on his tongue to keep himself from snapping. He knows Youji doesn’t like to read, and moreover, he knows it’s something Youji is slightly self-conscious about. Youji struggles with kanji sometimes and gets embarrassed about it, even though Masaomi suspects Youji is the kind of person who wouldn’t care to read even if it came easy to him—Youji is a very active person, and doesn’t participate in a lot of activities that requires sitting still.

“Was it Kasamatsu Hinami?” Masaomi says, thinking she’s the only one who might make Youji want to try and be someone he’s not.

Youji just continues to smile, “I just wanted to see if I liked it.”

“And who hit you?” Masaomi says. “You didn’t come home last night.” He raises his hand to gently trace the bruise on Youji’s face. He can already tell Youji isn’t going to answer that question either. “It was because of me again, wasn’t it? Honestly, Youji. I wish you’d fight back.”

“I can’t,” Youji says.

“ _Why?_ ” He’s not here to fight with Youji. But he’s been feeling tense for awhile now, and quite possibly he’s on the edge of doing something unforgivable.

“You know why,” Youji says quietly.

“No, I really don’t,” Masaomi says. “Oh fine, you don’t want to kill anyone, fine, but you don’t have to let them _hit_ you either. You could—”

“No, that’s just it, I couldn’t,” Youji cuts in. “I don’t think I know how. I haven’t learned how yet.”

Masaomi tilts his head. He’s focused entirely on Youji, waiting for an explanation. He can’t stand anyone to pretend to be less than what they are. With every fiber of his soul, he rejects the idea that people who excel at something need to fit in with the ordinary masses.

Youji looks away, and he flexes his fingers in and out, in an absent sort of way. “I don’t think I know how to _stop_ myself yet, Masa-chan. When I hit someone, I keep hitting. It’s like a switch, and training just takes over. So it’s better if I just—” Youji shrugs, “don’t start hitting. I heal fast, so it doesn’t bother me to get hit.”

“It bothers me,” Masaomi says quietly.

Youji looks back at him, with the most sardonic expression he’s ever had. “Then maybe you shouldn’t keep pissing people off so much.”

“Indeed,” Masaomi says. Clearly, he just needed to make sure people don’t go after Youji. Masaomi knows how to keep people down.

But that’s a problem for a different day. Now, he’s more intrigued by this insight into Youji’s past. Masaomi thinks that both traits—Youji not being a strong reader but instead a strong fighter—suggest an interesting childhood, and not for the first time Masaomi wonders if Youji was in some elementary school for young assassins.

“Stop it,” Youji says.

“Stop what?” Masaomi asks.

“Looking at me like I’m fascinating. I’m just an ordinary guy, Masa-chan.”

Masaomi snorts, because that is patently untrue, but there’s no point in arguing. “It was Hinami, wasn’t it? She’s the reason you’re subjecting yourself to Akutagawa right now.”

“I’m stopping,” Youji says, rolling his eyes. “I thought maybe her type was brainy guys. But I realize now if _that_ was true, she’d be all over _you._ ”

“Ha,” Masaomi cackles, amused at the idea of _that_ happening.

Then, casually, Youji says, “After all, you already have three advanced degrees. You weren’t enrolled in this university before we met, were you?”

During their first year, Masaomi had been afraid Youji would figure that out, but now he just snorts, “Was that Kasamatsu again?”

“Masaomi,” Youji says, but he’s smiling, so Masaomi knows he’s not mad. “Are you—was it all just because I didn’t have somewhere to go? I mean, was it—”

“Don’t be adorable, Youji,” Masaomi says, mostly because he finds he doesn’t want Youji to finish that question. _Was it because of me?_ “For your information, while I have advanced degrees, they’re all in STEM fields, and I decided I will never, ever let anyone have knowledge that I do not, which is why I am earning a degree in the humanities here. While you were a deciding factor in _choosing_ this place, I stick around for the age-appropriate chicks. College-aged women never wanted to date me when I was getting the degrees the first three times. Largely because I was twelve.”

Youji laughs, and Masaomi relaxes, glad that secret is out in the open now. He thinks about the problem of Kasamatsu Hinami and he sighs dramatically. “If I ask you a question, will you answer honestly?”

“That depends on whether or not you’re about to be an asshole.”

“I’m trying hard not to be,” Masaomi says. Youji motions for him to continue, so Masaomi says, “What do you even like about her? Why does it have to be _this_ chick? Based off the various people you were sleeping with last year, I wouldn’t even think she’s your type.”

“She’s not,” Youji says, “she’s not a type at all.” Then he looks at Masaomi and laughs.

“What?” Masaomi says, slightly indignant, since clearly Youji is laughing at his own private joke.

“I was just thinking—Shi-chan understood. She understood immediately why I liked Hinami. It’s funny, I guess, because last night Hinami asked me why I stay with _you._ I think you two are very similar, in some ways.”

“Bite your tongue,” Masaomi says. “She would hate the thought.” He’s not too fond of the idea, either. He’s confused as to why Youji would even suggest it.

“You’re both very firm in your convictions,” Youji says, still smiling like he has a joke that Masaomi doesn’t understand. Shiori, Masaomi thinks, clearly would get the joke. Sometimes he think Youji and Shiori must have a private language they can only speak with silences and smiles. He would feel left out, except he rather likes that about both of them. Youji’s smile fades and he says, “I like that she’s _good._ Masaomi, haven’t you ever—haven’t you ever wished someone would—” he stops.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” Youji sighs.

“No, you can’t stop there. Haven’t I ever wished someone would _what?”_

Youji shakes his head. Then, as if changing topics, he says, “Have you ever wished heroes existed, Masa-chan? The genuinely good people.”

“No,” Masaomi says, and that tense feeling he’s had for the past few days returns. “I don’t believe good people exist. Not the way you’re talking about.”

It’s not just the tense feeling; that feeling like he’s standing on the ledge of a very tall building and the only way down is to leap. He feels cold, and a little sick, and desperate, because all of the sudden no one has seemed more dangerous than Kasamatsu Hinami.

“Don’t put your faith in _good people,_ ” Masaomi says, his voice harsh. “Youji, the _good people_ are the absolute worst kind of people.”

“I don’t think I’m explaining it right,” Youji says.

“You’re explaining it just fine. You’ve drawn some moral axis, and you admire Kasamatsu for being on the other end of moral uprightness. But _morality_ is not a defining trait in anything but a D&D game. People don’t fall so neatly under the categories of Lawful Good and Chaotic Evil. Everyone you admire for their _goodness_ just has a very pretty way of outwardly presenting themselves.”

Youji frowns. “You don’t think _anyone_ is good?”

“I don’t believe in categorizing people,” Masaomi says. “Putting the good on one side and the bad on another. I think anyone is capable of anything—the good will commit an act of evil, if properly incentivized, and the evil will do the same.”

There’s a silence, as Youji thinks about this, and then he just laughs again. “Sorry, Masa-chan. I think you’re wrong. But I can’t argue with you, because I don’t know how. Maybe I should read more books after all. I just have a feeling you’re wrong, and I can’t explain why.”

“Fair enough,” Masaomi says. “As it happens, I think you’re the one who is wrong, but I concede that this is one of those things we’re probably not going to agree on.”

“That’s fair,” Youji says.

There wouldn’t be much point in trying to convince Youji that he’s wrong. Not only is he wrong, but he’s putting himself in danger with this kind of mindframe.

But if Masaomi can’t _convince_ Youji that he’s wrong, he’ll just have to _prove_ him wrong.

*

The first time Hinami gets a C on a test it’s because she doesn’t have the time to study for it, having received another summons from Masaomi to save someone he put in harm’s way.

“Kasamatsu-san, you’re attention has slipped in class lately,” her professor says, calling her to stay after class.

Hinami feels like she’s near tears, but she just nods stoically.

“I know you work a lot, but if your grades start slipping—”

“I’ll do better next time,” Hinami says, and she _will._ She’ll manage, she always has. _You won’t break me_ , she told Masaomi. And he won’t.

She exits the classroom feeling her stress like it is a physical thing. It almost makes her feel dizzy with how much strain she has been under.

It is not just the random summons to save reprehensible people. She’s had a lot of bad luck lately, and she’s feeling a little manic with it all. Her bike was stolen, making her late to work. The cops randomly came by her apartment, questioning her for something she couldn’t possibly have done, and searching her things. Her bank account was mysteriously depleted one day, and she kept getting harassing phone calls that woke up her up in the middle of the night.

Is it weird to think all these problems have a common source? Is it paranoid to think there is one man who is responsible for all this misfortune?

And now her grades are slipping, and if her grades fall she won’t be able to work some of her part time jobs, and then she won’t be able to pay for college. It’s all getting a little too much, and she just wants _peace,_ time to recuperate, time to put herself together...

“Hello, Kasamatsu. How are you?”

She almost decks him. There is Akashi Masaomi, waiting like some evil demon, smirking. “Use honorifics, brat,” she says through gritted teeth.

“That would imply I regarded you as my superior,” Masaomi says, “and I try not to lie.”

She starts walking, determined to ignore him, but he just follows her.

“Do you have nothing better to do than hound me?” she snaps.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Masaomi says, “you seem a little stressed out, Kasamatsu. You really should get more sleep.”

_Ignore him,_ she commands herself. _Just ignore him._

“By the way, did you hear about Okamura Hioto?”

She stops walking. Her whole body grows cold, like she’s been dumped in the middle of the Antarctic ocean with no land in sight.

_No,_ she thinks. _Don’t. Don’t don’t don’t._

“It turns out he’s for early parole,” Masaomi says brightly. “And, gosh, it sure seems like he could be released. It’s so easy to bribe a judge these days. I say purely theoretically, of course—”

She whirls and grabs him by his neck before she even knows what she’s doing. She slams him against the wall, raising her fist to punch him—

—but stops, just in time. Because he’s watching her, not trying to defend himself at all. He’s waiting for her to hit him; around them there are a few murmurs of surprised witnesses. And she knows what it looks like to onlookers—she would be hitting him with no provocation. She can already see the clear path to her being expelled from the university; if anyone could do it, it would be Masaomi.

_This isn’t who you are,_ she tells herself. He keeps watching her and she knows she can’t hit him. But she’s also close to begging. _Don’t do this. Not this._

She lets go, stepping back. She doesn’t know if she can keep herself from hitting or begging, and both are unacceptable. She is very close to breaking down and sobbing.

_You won’t break me._

She’s shaking, because she can’t stop herself from shaking, but she manages to turn away with just one more burst of courage. Any minute now, she is sure she can start walking away entirely, if only she can find more strength.

“Senpai?” A new voice says, like sunlight through the dark clouds. Cold hands suddenly cup her cheeks and there’s Nakahara Shiori, looking at her with concern. “Hinami-senpai, what’s—” she stops, when she sees Masaomi and then her manner shifts.

“What did you do to her?” Shiori demands.

“Nothing,” Masaomi scowls.

The cool touch of Shiori’s hands disappears as she moves to confront Masaomi. This finally causes Hinami to move from her stupor; it is alright for Masaomi to hurt _her_ , but she will not let him hurt Shiori. She tries to grab Shiori’s arm to keep her out of danger, but Shiori moves too quickly.

Forcefully, Shiori jabs a finger as Masaomi’s chest. “What did you do to her? What have you _been_ doing to her? She would not look like this after one encounter. Akashi Masaomi, are you tormenting her?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Shiori,” Masaomi says, not phased by the finger jabbing at his chest.

“I’m going to tell Youji-san,” Shiori snarls, and Hinami blinks, surprised both by Shiori’s ferocity as well as the nonsensical threat.

Except Masaomi actually starts to look a little alarmed. He tries to recover, shrugging and smiling. “I _told_ her she could do that herself. I told her it would get me to stop—”

“You told her that knowing she never would,” Shiori snaps. “But _I_ will. I _am_ going to. Masaomi-san, I cannot believe you.”

“Now, Shiori. You sell yourself short. Did it not occur to you that I would stop for _your_ sake? I would do anything you asked of me, Shiori.”

Hinami startles, distressed that Masaomi is _flirting_ with her friend.

“If you cared what I thought, you would not have done this.” Shiori says, still sounding cold, but also a little sad. “You shouldn’t have hurt my friend.”

“But I _had_ to, don’t you see?”

Shiori just shakes her head and Masaomi sighs and then pouts. “And anyway, you’re already too late, and that’s irksome. You’re never going to believe me _now b_ ecause it sounds too trite but I have already decided that Kasamatsu wins this round.”

“Oh, _really_ —” Shiori says, exasperated.

“See! See! I _knew_ you wouldn’t believe me! I assure you, I am the last person who would ever cry sour grapes. I absolutely loathe it when people do that. But I assure you, Shiori, I stop not because you have interfered, although I _would_ have, but out of respect for Kasamatsu.” Masaomi nods towards her, acknowledging her presence for the first time since Shiori stepped in.

“You won’t believe this either, Kasamatsu, but I actually have an intense amount of respect for you right now.”

Hinami meets his gaze. She _doesn’t_ believe him. “I’d hate to see how you treat people you disrespect.”

Masaomi cackles. “Yeah. You probably would.” He leans in and kisses Shiori on the cheek quickly, leaping out of the way before she can swat him on the arm. “And _you_ have to forgive me, Shiori, because you’re my friend, and that’s what friends do.” He scampers off, looking for all the world like the mischievous eighteen year old he _should_ be, rather than the devil that he is.

Hinami doesn’t know how to process what’s happening, but once again, Shiori’s hands are on hers—cool to the touch. And Shiori is there, looking beautiful and fierce and worried.

“Was he _flirting_ with you?” Hinami asks. She has too many questions about what just happened, so she concentrates on the most tangible concern.

“I think he just flirts with his friends. I am not sure he knows what else you are supposed to do with people.”

“You’re actually claiming him as a _friend_?” Hinami exclaims, extraordinarily distressed. It might break her heart to see Masaomi destroy Shiori like he destroys so many other women. “No, Shiori—he—you don’t actually think he’s a _good person_ , do you?”

Shiori laughs. “No, I know he is not. Not even Masaomi-san believes _that_. I suspect the only person in this world who actually believes Akashi Masaomi is a good person is Youji-san.” Shiori’s smile falls as she studies Hinami again. “What did he do to you?”

Hinami shakes her head. She can’t explain what he’s been doing—she’s sure that Shiori is probably the one person who would believe her, but it would feel too much like _whining._

“He said something to you,” Shiori presses, “please, Senpai, won’t you trust me with your burdens?”

“I—” Hinami flushes. She never _has_. She’s never been the kind of person to share her burdens with _anyone_. Why stress out others with her problems?

But she thinks about how close she came to breaking entirely, and how glad she was to see Shiori there, so she lets out a breath and says, “Okamura Hioto. Akashi said—he said Okamura would be released early from prison. That he could _make_ that happen.” Or at least, he implied it. And what if he does make that happen? He still could, and oh God, she’s not sure she could handle that.

“Who is Okamura Hioto?” Shiori asks, keeping her voice soft and gentle.

Hinami flinches despite her intentions. “He’s the drunk driver who killed my parents.”

There’s a pause, as Hinami once again tries to compose herself so she doesn’t start crying. Shiori’s expression is unreadable. Hinami continues, “I should—I should probably forgive him. It wouldn’t be—it wouldn’t be the end of the world, if he gets released early. I just—” A better person might be able to forgive him, and Hinami has always wanted to be the kind of person who did not hold onto rage. But she hasn’t fully managed that yet.

“Do you want to hurt him?”

It takes her awhile to process the question—to understand that it was asked. Shiori’s voice is low and very cold—Hinami almost doesn’t recognize her at first. “What?”

“Masaomi-san,” Shiori says, still cold, her eyes like outer space, like she’s become this detached and frightening thing. “I can hurt him, Hinami-senpai.”

“You can’t—” Hinami isn’t sure what’s happening right now. “You don’t want to go against _Akashi_ —he—”

“I know his weakness,” Shiori says coolly. Suddenly she looks ten feet tall, like some sort of goddess, or a witch with mysterious dark power. “I could hurt him because he hurt you. It wouldn’t be hard. And he _should_ suffer, Senpai. He should know what it means to suffer.”

_I am not a good person._ That’s what Shiori said when they first met. For the first time, Hinami realizes this girl is not a porcelain doll or damsel; she never needed rescuing, she very much can take care of herself.

And she’s so distant now; Hinami thinks she’s drifting away. Hinami suddenly gets the feeling that how she reacts to Shiori right now will define everything. She could lose Shiori forever—

So she wraps her arms around Shiori and and hugs her tight.

She doesn’t see Shiori’s eyes widen in surprise, but she whispers, “It’s OK, Shiori. You don’t need to, not for my sake.”

“Senpai—”

“Maybe he does deserve it. But not on my account. That’s not how I want to live my life. I don’t want to hurt anyone just because I’m hurt. So, it’s OK. Just be Shiori. That’s all I’ve ever needed.”

After awhile, Hinami feels some of the tension drain from Shiori, as the other girl leans in and rests her head on Hinami, gripping onto her arms in something that is not a hold but feels a little desperate nonetheless.

*

“My God, that is a lot of yaoi.”

Shiori shrieks and flings her melon bread in the direction of the voice because there _hadn't been anyone in her bedroom when she went to the kitchen_. Masaomi, in a supremely insulting move, casually catches the melon bread and looks very nonchalant.

“What,” she says. “What the hell.”

“This is an entire bookshelf of yaoi manga,” Masaomi says, ignoring her obvious distress.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” she demands.

“I wanted to see you,” Masaomi smiles charmingly.

“How did you get into my bedroom?” Shiori says, refusing to be charmed.

“You left your window open.”

“So you just let yourself in like a psychopath? Or some sort of stalker?”

“I wanted to see if you could be surprised. Turns out you can be!” Masaomi says, “also, question, why all the yaoi manga?”

“I don't have to explain myself to people who break into my bedroom,” Shiori says, composing herself now.

Youji had actually warned her that Masaomi tended to invade the personal space of his friends. At the time, she assumed this was just a Youji-exclusive thing, as many of Masaomi's quirky behaviors tended to be. Having been forewarned going into this friendship, it is vaguely irritating that she doesn't have much room to complain now.

“You have a whole yaoi bookshelf. Right there. Next to your regular bookshelf of highbrow literature. I cannot be the only person to ever wonder about that. You keep your porn collection right there out in the open. The men you invite back here must have asked questions.”

“I don't invite men into my bedroom,” Shiori says, sitting down at her desk, shoving her way past the billionaire to do so. “And the women never seem to question it.” Hinami, at least, had been shocked but also mildly intrigued in the presence of so much yaoi.

“So when you said you were a fangirl, really what you meant is that you were a connoisseur of the acts of manly loving,” Masaomi says.

“Practically a professor in homoerotic literature,” Shiori says tartly. “I need to study. Give me back my melon bread.”

Masaomi hands her snack back. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Then you should have picked up the phone like a normal person.”

“Can I stick around while you study?”

“No. You'll only distract me.”

“I'll be very quiet,” Masaomi reassures.

“No. I don't believe you will be able to keep yourself entertained, which means you will only bother me.”

“But I want to read your impressive collection.”

This finally causes her to look back at him. In a flat voice she says, “You want to read my yaoi manga.”

“I do,” Masaomi purrs, “If only to understand what fascinates you so much.”

Shiori considers this. She knows this is all part of Masaomi's trap. That he has deliberately said what he knows would be most appealing to her.

But the idea of Akashi Masaomi reading yaoi manga really is too good to pass up.

“Fine,” she says, “but if you interrupt me while I am studying, I am calling Youji-san to evict you.”

“You won't even know that I'm here.”

*

And to his credit, he is quiet. He settles down next to her bookshelf and doesn't say anything else. Because she does need to study, she quickly loses herself to her books and notes, and hours pass by.

When her eyes start to go a little blurry and she knows it's time to stop, she stretches and cracks her neck. Only then does she remember that Masaomi is still in her bedroom.

She looks over to him. He is still reading yaoi.

“How many did you get through?” she asks, genuinely surprised.

“Quite a lot,” Masaomi says. “Am I allowed to talk to you now?”

“Yes,” Shiori says, thinking about the strange conundrum of a man who breaks into a woman's bedroom but then completely obeys the rules she placed on his behavior.

“Good, because I have so many questions,” Masaomi says, closing the current manga volume. “First question, this is the fifth manga I picked up—by a different author and everything—where raping a man you just met seems like a perfectly acceptable way to start a romance. Why is that?”

“It's a standard trope of the genre,” Shiori says.

“Alright,” Masaomi says, surprising her by accepting the answer. “Follow-up question, is that something women actually like? Because I was always taught that no means no.”

“No, it isn't. Don't get romance tips from yaoi,” she says. “It’s fiction. No one thinks of it as having any bearing on reality.”

Masaomi mulls this over, “All right, next question. Why does the smaller man always look so much like a woman? If the purpose was to watch two men fucking, doesn't that kind of defeat the point?”

“Is a stylistic choice,” Shiori says.

“And why is there never any condoms or lube in these? Wouldn't that hurt?”

“Do I break into your room and criticize your porn?” Shiori asks, exasperated.

“No, but you are _welcome_ to,” Masaomi says delightedly. “I don't keep my porn out in the open on a bookshelf like you do, but please, feel free. I keep it under my bed like a normal person. Read all you want and take all the critical notes that you would like.”

“It's not porn, it's research.”

“What a coincidence, that's exactly what I call my porn collection,” Masaomi says. “But it's R18, it says so, right there on the cover, with the two naked men embracing each other.”

Shiori's lips twitch but then what might have been a smile falls as she looks at Masaomi. Then quietly, she says, “I am very upset with you, Masaomi-san.”

“I know,” Masaomi says, his own face growing uncharacteristically serious as he looks at her.

“You should have left her alone,” Shiori says, various feelings about the matter warring inside her. Truthfully, she is furious, and she still very much wants to punish the man who hurt her friend. That cold fury she experienced when she realized what he was doing to Hinami is still inside her. She is not sure of the extent of it—Hinami wouldn't tell her. But it must have been bad, and it must have been prolonged, for Hinami to look like that.

“I had to,” Masaomi says.

“No, you didn't,” Shiori says.

Was it jealousy? Because Hinami had Youji's regard? Or perhaps even because she had Shiori’s own good favor? Masaomi seems like the kind of person who would hate sharing his friends with anyone. Or was he simply trying to help his friend by removing an element in Youji's life he thinks will only lead to bad things.

“If you had any true regard for me, you would not have hurt my friend,” Shiori says, but she still can't see the traces of any kind of guilt. “And I know you know that this is not what _Youji-san_ would have wanted.”

It's a reminder that she could still hurt him, if she told Youji what he had done. And, perhaps softer, there is the underlying threat. _I can still destroy you. I know how._

“But that's just it!” Masaomi bursts out, “that’s exactly why! It's because both you and Youji insist she is a good person that I had to see exactly what kind of person she is. And I did this as much for your sake as for Youji's. Had she not been connected to Youji at all, I still would have targeted her.”

Shiori is not sure she believes that—but she let it pass in favor of the much larger issue at stake.

“Why did you think it necessary?” Clearly, he has written a narrative where he had good intentions, and she finds she wants to know what that is.

“Because good people will hurt you the most.”

Her attention has never wavered from him, but it's like he is more in focus now. And while he is sure of himself when he speaks—Shiori wonders if Masaomi is ever unsure—there is an element of earnestness in his voice that makes him seem almost vulnerable.

“Good people will break you with their regard,” he says, when he sees that she is listening. “Someday, you will disappoint them, and they will destroy you with their disappointment. You won't measure up to their expectations, or you'll do something that horrifies them. They will think you are a terrible person, and in that moment you'll believe it. Because why would the good and the honest be wrong?

“And I couldn't let that happen to you or Youji. I thought, if she is to destroy someone, let it be me. She has no regard for me to lose, and I lose nothing with her disdain.”

Shiori watches him for a very long time, and to his credit, he never once looks away from her gaze.

_Who hurt you?_ she wonders. _Whose good favor did you lose?_ Because in that moment, she is convinced of two things. One, that Masaomi spoke from experience. Someone he thought good must have betrayed him in some way—someone whose opinion he cared enough about that it made him wonder if maybe he deserved the betrayal.

And second, that even if she or Youji had cared nothing about Kasamatsu Hinami, he still would have tried to break her. He would have never trusted her goodness.

“And?” she asks finally. “What is your assessment?”

Masaomi grimaces, “I have at least ascertained that she is not the type to subtly plot the downfall of her enemies. If she decided I needed to be removed from this Earth, she’d do it herself. And probably turn herself in afterwards.” Masaomi snorts before Shiori can say anything. “No, you don't need to say it. I do get it. Whatever else she is, she is not a hypocrite. I could see her contempt—she was never going to sink to my level.

“But Shiori, _you_ should be careful. Maybe she will not purposely destroy you, but whatever will you do if you disappoint her?”

Shiori smiles wryly. Because of course Masaomi realizes that in the world of saints and sinners, Shiori is not on the side of the angels.

“I will try very hard not to do so,” Shiori says, knowing that it was the wrong thing to say. Masaomi shakes his head and she can tell he is still unhappy. That’s exactly how Hinami still feels, whenever she hears that Shiori is friends with Masaomi. The two are very alike in strange ways—just on opposite ends of the spectrum.

There is a silence between them. The kind of silence when two people are beginning to realize they will never change each other's minds.

“You were going to destroy me,” Masaomi says, off-hand. “I could see that in your eyes. You wanted to hurt me because I hurt her.”

Shiori is not very surprised that he saw that, but she is a little surprised that he mentions it now. “I still could,” she says, conversationally.

“You know, I rather believe that you could,” Masaomi says, looking at her with an analytical expression, and Shiori wonders if she’s just made a dangerous enemy.

“I like you, Masaomi-san. Very much, in fact. I hope that you know had Hinami-san been psychologically torturing _you_ for weeks on end, I would be just as vengeful.”

“That _is_ good to know,” Masaomi beams. “Is it because of the torture? Or is it because it was Hinami?”

“Because Hinami is my friend,” Shiori corrects. “I know what you are, Masaomi-san.”

“Yes,” Masaomi says, “and I’m beginning to understand you a little better, too. You’re a little ruthless, Shiori.”

Shiori smiles, a small sort of smile, and thinks he probably realizes that if she had decided to destroy Masaomi, she wouldn’t have tried to break _him._ And yes, she does realize how ruthless that is. There was definitely never any chance she’d be on the side of angels.

“I would destroy you preemptively if you were any other person, but honestly, this is all rather alarmingly sexy. You really should go out with me.”

“I like being your friend, Masaomi-san.”

“I think you might break my heart one day.”

“It would be an honor and a privilege to do so, but I doubt I have that ability.”

Masaomi grins at her, and perhaps there’s a reconciliation now. She _is_ his friend, and she somehow trusts that he will not go after Hinami anymore. Perhaps a better person would not forgive him so easily, but she feels like at least on one level, she understands who they both are, and that’s all that matters.

“Research for what?” Masaomi asks abruptly.

It takes her awhile to mentally backtrack the conversation far enough to realize he has brought the conversation back to the yaoi. She looks away, tucking her hair behind her ear as she debates honesty. Deciding she wants to know what he'll say, she bares her soul, which she makes a habit of never doing. “I would like to be a mangaka.”

“Of the yaoi variety?”

“Yes, that is why I have so much of it,” Shiori says.

“Hmm,” Masaomi says, looking at a shelf. “Good for you then.”

She's used to a variety of dismissals when she tells people this dream, and she can't quite tell if he's being patronizing now. “Oh?”

“People should have goals,” he says, almost off hand. “Why go to university? It's not required for mangaka.”

“That was—” she stops, realizing she doesn't want to bare her soul quite that much this evening, “not my idea. But I thought I should study art, and that I needed more life experiences to tell better stories.”

“Yes,” Masaomi says, his eyes sparkling. “That sounds like you. You would be very serious about anything you set your mind on. I look forward to reading your work someday, Shiori. Please don't make them look like women.”

She laughs, not fully sure what to do with a compliment from Masaomi. “I am surprised you read through so many.”

“I would read anything, simply because it was something you enjoyed.”

He says it with so much intensity, serious and with zero shame at such an embarrassing pronouncement, she wonders if he even realizes it. She thinks it would be a very perverse person who could remain calm in the face of such flirtation.

She meets his gaze, and says, “In that case, my favorite novel is _Mansfield Park.”_

Masaomi beams. “Jane Austen.”

She isn't surprised, but she does wonder how many eighteen-year-old boys would know that.

“Unusual choice,” Masaomi says, “ _Pride and Prejudice_ is the more popular one.”

“Have you read it then?”

“ _Mansfield Park_? Not yet.” He says it like a promise.

*

Hinami doesn’t believe for a second that Masaomi is actually going to stop tormenting her. But days go by, and then weeks, and she doesn’t get a mysterious summons to save another wretched person, and all the other problems that were plaguing her have quietly disappeared, and there isn’t a sign of Akashi Masaomi anywhere.

Then one day she gets a letter in the mail. It doesn’t make any sense, and by the time she figures out what must be happening, she’s already tracking down Masaomi in a mixture of confusion and rage.

Hinami finds him in the quad, and it takes every ounce of control she possesses not to strangle him right then and there. Instead, she slams the paper down on the table. “What the hell?”

If Masaomi is startled by her sudden appearance, he doesn’t show it. His eyes flick from the acknowledgement letter from the charity and back to Hinami. “Do you disapprove, Kasamatsu? I’m shocked.”

“Use honorifics,” she snaps, “and what do you think you’re doing?”

“Donating to charity?” Masaomi says, confused. “I do it periodically.”

“But— _why?_ ”

The letter thanked her for the donation to women and children who were victims of domestic abuse that was in her name. It didn’t say who the donor was, but Hinami only knows one person rich enough to do something like this. “What are you trying to accomplish?

Masaomi leans his chair back—an action he _must_ know tries her patience, as she is supremely tempted to shove him back and let gravity do the rest.

“I am making amends, I suppose. If you were a different sort of person, I would have just given _you_ the money. But I knew you would never take it.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t! Take it back!”

“You want me to _rescind_ my money from abuse victims?”

“Take my name off it!” Hinami demands.

“Nope,” Masaomi grins. “I like it.”

Hinami steps away, taking the crumpled offending paper with her.

“This isn’t a bribe,” Masaomi informs her, his grin fading as he looks at her intently. “I’m not trying to buy your affections. You don’t have to feel obligated to like me.”

“ _That_ was never a concern,” Hinami says.

“No, I imagine not.

“Then what _is_ this? I don’t believe for a second you’re actually making amends.”

“Alright,” Masaomi says, “then call it a peace offering.”

Hinami snorts because she doesn’t believe _that_ either.

“You think I don’t care about anyone, but you’re wrong. I like Shiori and Youji and they both like you. I knew I shouldn’t have hurt you because it would hurt them, but I had to.”

“You _had_ to,” Hinami says, because she doesn’t believe he actually cares about Shiori or Youji either. If it benefited him, he would turn on them in a second.

“It's a hobby of mine. I suppose I like trying to break people.”

Hinami pulls back. It's everything she has always believed to be true about Akashi Masaomi but she never expected him to say it. She almost thinks maybe he's just catering to her beliefs about him like Youji suggested—except he generally sounds like he means it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Hinami asks, her voice quieter than expected as she asks something that's not really a question. She doesn't expect an answer.

“I don't know,” he says helplessly, and she definitely didn't think he'd reply. “But everyone breaks sooner or later anyway. That's just what life does to people. I guess I hurry it along because I want to know what people are like when they're broken. I think people are a truer version of themselves when they’re broken. I’d feel bad about it, except I think that's why I exist.”

_He's insane,_ Hinami thinks, her whole body cold. _He's genuinely insane._ She looks at him and suddenly she can see how he could be as dangerous as Hitler or Genghis Khan or some other world conqueror. His antics on-campus suddenly seem tame and restrained; she looks at him with the utmost faith that if he wanted to burn the whole world down, he could.

_Would you kill me? Say I was about to unleash some terrible evil, like Pandora opening the box, and you knew I was going to do it, would you kill me then? If that was the only way to stop me? Shoot me point blank, kill me cold._

“And Shiori?” she asks, feeling slightly detached from her own body. “And Yamazaki? These people you claim to like? Are you trying to break _them_?”

Masaomi drops his chair down and looks faintly amused. “Of course not. There would be no point to trying. They were both _kintsukuroi_ when I met them.”

Hinami reels back like he hit her. It's like she'd been at a turning point, prepared to do— _what_ , she's not sure, but she’d been on the edge of something and now she comes crashing back to reality.

Her father had taken her to a museum once with an exhibition of _kintsukuroi_ pottery on display. "Look, Hinami. These artists take something broken and repair it with gold, making something even more beautiful than before it broke. It is such a beautiful testament to humanity. Our flaws do not need to be ugly. Just because we were broken does not mean we cannot be repaired with gold." Her father never treated her like she couldn’t understand things just because she was young. She didn’t fully understand what he meant then, but she thought about it for a long time afterwards, until she was old enough to know why _kintsukuroi_ meant so much to him in terms of what people were capable of.

The idea of Shiori and Youji as broken people repaired by gold is so incredibly tragic and beautiful that it infuriates her that Masaomi was the one who came up with the analogy.

It also... deeply unsettles her. The implications about Shiori and Youji's lives are too painful to consider.

"You really should call him ‘Youji,’" Masaomi adds, out of nowhere. "It's very cruel that you don't. He hates his family name. Every time someone calls him ‘Yamazaki’ I think he wants to kill himself a little bit. But if you want to make him suffer, then by all means, keep addressing him by the name he hates.”

She eyes him suspiciously, not trusting anything he says. She feels, suddenly, that she doesn't want to talk about Youji with this man. “In the future, if you want to donate to charities, do it in your own name,” she says, gripping the very crumpled paper and then forcing herself to walk away.

She can feel his eyes on her the entire time she's in his line of sight.

*

Sanada Eichi is not her first boyfriend, but he is the first one she considers “serious.” He's very patient with her busy schedule (and not a lot of men are) and admires her work ethic. He’s studying literature, and she likes that he's very intelligent, and not intimidated by the fact that she's stronger than him, (like a lot of men are). She likes the intellectual type, because it's different than who she is, and men who are very physically active always tried to compete with her and she hates that. She likes men who are sensitive and kind, which is all another reason why she would never date someone like Youji Yamazaki.

She's just not sure why she keeps comparing him to Youji. It's not like Youji was ever serious about dating her, or that she'd want to, if he was.

But all the same, it catches her off-guard when Youji calls out to her while she's on a date with Sanada. She's _still_ not sure why, but she'd much rather he wasn't around her boyfriend.

“Hi, Senpai!” Youji says, bounding over to her.

“Hello, Yamazaki,” she says, and because she's looking for it she sees him flinch slightly before he smiles wide.

“I'm helping out with a concert!” he says brightly, pressing a flyer into her hands, and only now she notices the huge stack he's carrying. “It’s this Friday night, you and your boyfriend should come.”

“Oh,” she startles, “Sanada, this is Yamazaki Youji. Yamazaki, this is Sanada Eichi.”

“Charmed,” Youji beams.

“Likewise,” Sanada says, frowning at the flyer. “Thank you for the invitation, Yamazaki, but we probably won't be able to make it. Wild bacchanalias are not exactly our scene.”

“Not wild at all,” Youji says, looking questioningly at Hinami, who, yes, _had_ noticed that her boyfriend answered for her, and didn't like it. “It'll be a very contained bacchanalia.”

“‘Though this be madness, yet there is a method to it?’” Sanada quotes.

“Yes, exactly!” Youji smiles. “That was very nicely said, Sanada-senpai. You should be a poet.”

Hinami jolts at the abrupt sound of Sanada’s laughter. “Oh, you're joking. That came from _Hamlet_.”

“Was that a movie?” Youji asks.

“It's William Shakespeare,” Sanada says, incredulously. “You can't tell me you didn't read the play in high school? Everyone has at least read the translation, although it's much better if you can read it in the original English.”

“Oh,” Youji says. He flicks his eyes to Hinami, who can feel herself flushing with embarrassment, and then says in a casual tone, “I didn't read much in high school.”

“It's one of the most well-known plays in the world,” Sanada says.

“Not everyone has the same interests,” Hinami says, unable to bear Sanada's rudeness anymore (she's not sure why; she said ruder things to Youji before.)

“Or can read, apparently,” Sanada says, in a way that’s clearly not apologetic.

Youji's face is blank—she’d never be able to tell anything was wrong. And then he smiles, that charming sort of smirk that always used to bother her so much. “Yes, you have me there, Sanada-senpai. Can't say I've ever been much of a reader. I’m a big fan of bacchanalia, wild or otherwise. You should check it out if you're free that day, Senpai. Sanada-san, it was nice to meet you.”

Later, Hinami will think about how it was gentlemanly behavior. That he conducted himself with a kind of propriety she’s only ever read about in Jane Austen novels. But at the time, Hinami doesn't think, she just chases after him on instinct.

“I'm sorry,” she says when she catches him, “for his rudeness.”

Youji still has that unreadable expression on his face. Unbidden she thinks about what Masaomi had called him. _Kintsukuroi_. She'd seen that in Shiori before Masaomi had ever said anything—but she's never considered Youji as someone once broken.

“You know, Senpai,” Youji says, and his voice is distant, like he's speaking from a faraway place, “Masaomi is probably the smartest person in the whole goddamn world and _he_ never once made me feel like I was stupid.”

Hinami flushes, but even as she acknowledges Sanada's faults, she can't leave the comparison alone. “Are you seriously comparing Sanada's rudeness to Akashi's?”

“No, I suppose not,” Youji says, offhand. “Although, I'm not sure you have much room to criticize _my_ friends anymore.”

It's still absurd to compare Sanada’s poor behavior to Masaomi’s psychopathy, and Hinami is about to go into another tirade when she remembers that she’d been trying to apologize.

Youji just grins sardonically like he knows what she's thinking. “See you around, Senpai.”

And she watches him walk away.

*

“You didn't have to run after him,” Sanada says when she returns, a tad sulkily.

“You were rude,” she says, blunt.

“Oh, come on, even you have to admit it's ridiculous that he hadn't heard of _Hamlet_! I bet he didn't even know who Shakespeare was.”

And she does think that's odd, but not the way Sanada seems to. She doesn't like the way Sanada says that. “Even so, you shouldn't have made fun of him for it.”

Sanada snorts. “Like he even noticed. People like that are too thick to understand the values of learned education.”

_He's a little stuck-up, don't you think?_

“People like that,” Hinami repeats.

“You know, jocks. Meatheads. Those sporty type that would rather whack a ball around then read a book.”

“Types like me, you mean,” Hinami says quietly.

“You don't need to be like that,” Sanada protests, leaving Hinami to wonder _like what?_ But he carries on with, “Why are you defending him anyway? Do you _like_ him?”

“Of course not,” Hinami says automatically, offended by his question, and a little stung that someone she is currently dating would even ask that in the first place.

“All the women sigh over him like he's something special,” Sanada says, with an edge to his voice Hinami doesn't understand—he never struck her as particularly insecure before. “Is he your friend?”

“No,” Hinami says, because that's the truth, but she doesn't like Sanada's interrogation. “But so what if he was?”

“I heard he almost killed a man his first year,” Sanada says. “Beat him half to death.”

“You shouldn't listen to rumors,” Hinami replies, although she'd heard the same rumors. Considering the fact that Youji was getting pounded just the other day, she's inclined to think it must just be a rumor, although she'd certainly believed it possible of him not that long ago.

“And besides, you know what they say about him. Girls are wasting their time pining after him.”

Hinami's brain halts. “You think Yamazaki is gay?” she asks incredulously, not having heard _that_ rumor before. (She has, on the other hand, once overheard a couple girls giggling and swapping stories about what it was like to have sex with Yamazaki Youji, so she is pretty sure that rumor couldn't be true.)

“He doesn't pay rent,” Sanada says matter-of-factly, like he's pronouncing something Hinami couldn't possibly know. “Everyone says that he lives with Akashi as his—you know.”

“As his _mistress?”_ Hinami exclaims, because it's so incredibly absurd she can't believe Sanada is repeating it.

Then, suddenly, she can picture it. Not something sordid, like what Sanada is implying. But it would make so much sense if Youji is in love with Masaomi. _What does he have on you?_ She’d asked him. Even Shiori had said Youji is probably the only person who genuinely believes Masaomi is a good man. It suddenly makes a whole lot of tragic sense that Youji is like those poor deluded girls who are swept up by Masaomi's charm.

“You don't have to make it sound so absurd,” Sanada says, his nostrils flaring. “It's what everyone is saying. Yamazaki spends a lot of time on his knees for Akashi Masaomi.”

Hinami pulls back—appalled not just by the crassness of the statement but how he said it; sneering like it was the most insulting thing he could think to say.

“So what if he is?” she finds herself saying again.

“What?” Sanada laughs, as if he’s sure he misunderstood.

“So what if he is Akashi's lover?”

“ _Lover_ is a bit generous if he's being paid for it,” Sanada says, off-hand. “I, of course, don't _judge_ what two men do, but you have to admit it's a little _unnatural._ ”

That was always what she hated the most about people who called her a lesbian. Not that she is offended at the prospect, but that other people thought homosexuality was an insult. And even with him backtracking now, she doesn't like how it becomes something disgusting when he says it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sanada demands. “Why are you defending him?”

“I am not defending him,” Hinami says quietly. “Because, in this instance, he has not done anything that needs defending. But I am not sure what it says about _you_ that you think he needs my defense in this matter.”

*

“I broke up with my boyfriend.”

Shiori blinks at her and says, “Hello, Hinami-senpai. Would you like to come inside?”

“Yes, thank you, sorry,” Hinami says.

She's never had a serious boyfriend before, or a female friend she could talk to after a break-up, so she found herself confused in front of Shiori's door before she understood she was coming over here.

She likes Shiori's apartment. It's bigger and fancier than she would have expected, and Shiori has an entire bookshelf full of yaoi manga (that Hinami always finds herself somewhat guiltily reading whenever she stops by.)

Her gaze is on the rather infamous bookshelf now when she sees the man’s wristwatch in front of the manga and, momentarily distracted, Hinami blurts out, “Is that a Rolex?”

“Oh, Masaomi-san must have left it there,” Shiori says.

Hinami raises an eyebrow, all thoughts of her breakup momentarily derailed. “Akashi was in your apartment?”

“It's not what you think,” Shiori says, blushing faintly. “He breaks in.”

“He breaks in?” Hinami repeats.

“Well, he climbs through the window, if I leave it open. Don't look like that, Senpai, I know what you're thinking, and it's not how it sounds. He's like a stray cat. He wanders in, reads my manga, and occasionally leaves presents.”

“Shiori,” Hinami says.

“I know it sounds bad, but I don't mind. Otherwise I would close my window.”

Hinami finds that even more disturbing—the thought that Shiori doesn't mind Akashi Masaomi sneaking into her house like an abusive ex-boyfriend.

Since Shiori clearly knows how it sounds, Hinami doesn’t want to beleaguer the point. But she really wishes Masaomi never decided to to come to this college on a whim. She wishes he was never a thing in their lives.

“So,” Shiori says, after their properly situated on her couch. “Why did you break up with Sanada-san?”

Hinami feels a little helpless in the face of the question because it almost absurdly seems like she broke up with her boyfriend because of Youji. Even if that isn't exactly what happened, the only thing that comes to mind is, “There was a littleness about him I didn't see before,” and then she flushes at her own reply.

But Shiori just laughs, “Senpai, you have read Jane Austen's _Emma_?”

“Yes,” Hinami says, surprised that Shiori recognized the quote. “I like Jane Austen.”

“I do as well,” Shiori says, smiling. “And I quite agree with you, although I am sorry if the realization causes you pain.”

“You didn't like Sanada?” Hinami says, surprised again. She'd always thought they got along OK.

“Oh, I sound like one of those friends, don't I? The ‘I never liked him anyway’ friends,” she clarifies at Hinami's confused look. “But, I will confess, I did not like him.”

“Why?” Hinami asks, slightly accusatory but also just wondering what her friend saw that she had not.

“He always seemed a little too impressed with his own intelligence,” Shiori says, still somewhat apologetically.

_He's a little stuck-up, don't you think?_

“You could have said something,” Hinami says, feeling somewhat foolish now that it seems everyone realized this about Sanada but her.

“I did not think it my place,” Shiori says.

“Of course it is! You're my friend! You're a fixed feature in my life, men are still negotiable.”

Shiori ducks her head, but Hinami can see her smiling. “Well, then I will say, I did not like him. I always thought—oh, never mind.”

“No, you should say it. I'm trying to convince myself I don't care.”

“ _Do_ you?”

“I don't think so,” Hinami says. “Although, I guess I wish it wasn't—” she wishes Youji hadn't been there. Youji confuses things. “He seems like he wasn't as nice as I thought, but I'm not sure if I'm wrong on that.”

“You're not,” Shiori says shortly. “You know how I—” she flushes, “how sometimes, I will offer to sleep with men in relationships, to see what they will do?”

“Yes,” Hinami says, frowning, because she wishes Shiori wouldn't do that, only because she doesn’t think it makes Shiori happy. “Did you ask Sanada?”

“No,” Shiori says, firm and resolute. “But only because I was fairly certain he would say yes, and I did not want to do that to you.”

“I wouldn't have cared,” Hinami says and then thinks how odd it is that she would say that. It seems like something she probably should have cared about. Maybe she never did like Sanada.

“I know,” Shiori says, which makes the statement even odder still. Did Shiori _know_ that Hinami didn’t like Sanada all that much? “But still. He did not deserve you.”

“Oh, well, I wasn't a great girlfriend either,” Hinami says, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. “I have crap hours and I'm difficult to put up with—”

“No,” Shiori cuts in. “You're easy to be with. And anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.”

_Shiori_ is easy to be with, Hinami thinks. She has a very calming presence, like chamomile tea.

“We should go out somewhere,” Hinami says. “My time is freed up. Are you doing anything Friday night?”

“Oh,” Shiori says, looking bright but then unsure.

“You already have plans,” Hinami guesses.

“Yes, but, you're welcome to join me, but—I'm attending Youji-san’s concert.”

“Oh, right,” Hinami says, belatedly remembering what had been the initial disruptor to her relationship. “Wait, _his_ concert? He said he was just helping out. Is he in the band?”

“No, not exactly,” Shiori says curiously, and it occurs to Hinami that she's probably wondering how Hinami knows about the event. “My understanding is that he is helping by playing in the concert. He knows one of the songwriters, who was hoping for scouts to hear her songs. But the lead guitarist is out with mono, and she needed someone to be a substitute guitarist.”

“Make sense,” Hinami says after a while, thinking, _I didn't know he could play the guitar,_ and _of course you didn't, you don't know him at all,_ followed by, _and it doesn't matter anyway what instrument he plays because you don't care!_

“You don't have to come,” Shiori says, as if she sensing some of Hinami's inner turmoil.

“No, I'd like to,” Hinami says, surprising herself. But it's probably a side effect of the easy way Sanada had answered for her—who's to say she _wouldn't_ like a bacchanalia?

... So long as it was orderly and contained.

And she doesn't have to see Akashi Masaomi.

*

“Hi!” Masaomi says, bounding over to them with a guitar slung over his shoulder. “Shiori, I am so glad you could make it. Kasamatsu, you should show your legs off more often, you have nice legs.”

“I will kick you in the face,” Hinami growls.

“I bet I could see your underwear if you do,” Masaomi says brightly, and then he gets yanked backwards by the neck, which is just as well, since Hinami was totally about to kick him in the face.

“Behave,” Youji says, still holding on to Masaomi's neck. “Hello Shi-chan, Kasamatsu-senpai.”

“I didn't know Masaomi-san would be playing as well,” Shiori says, and Hinami gets the sense that she said that for her benefit.

“Last minute substitution,” Youji says.

“The bass player made out with the lead guitarist and also got mono,” Masaomi explains. “Let _that_ be a lesson against dating your co-workers.”

“I distinctly remember you saying you didn't know how to play bass,” Shiori accuses. “I remember, because you phrased it as, ‘why would I ever learn how to play a peasant instrument that only exists to entertain feeble minds.’ When did you learn?”

“Four hours ago!” Masaomi says, playing a complicated chord on his guitar.

“Please,” Hinami says.

“No, he did,” Youji says, and then adds darkly, “it's the most annoying thing he's ever done.”

“Don't hate me because I'm brilliant,” Masaomi says, then plays another chord Hinami vaguely recognizes from an American rock band.

Youji dramatically rolls his eyes. “Come on, Maestro, we still have warm ups. See you at the after-party Shi-chan!” He smiles at Hinami before departing, still dragging Masaomi by his neck.

“I'm sorry,” Shiori says quickly. “I didn't know he was going to be here.”

“No, that's OK,” Hinami says, self-consciously smoothing down her skirt, and wondering why she _had_ wore a skirt, when she usually didn't. “They’re… actually your friends, aren't they?” She's beginning to realize that they do both treat Shiori like a friend.

“Yes, for better or for worse,” Shiori says, smiling weakly. “We don't have to hang out with them afterwards. I want to help you get over your relationship woes.”

_They were both_ kintsukuroi _when I met them._

“No, that's fine. I think—I'd like to know them like how you know them.”

Shiori smiles warmly, obviously happy by the admission, and Hinami feels guilty on multiple levels. First, because it must have been a strain on Shiori to have her friends not get along with each other. And second, because while Hinami is telling the truth, she's also not saying everything.

She wants to verify for herself that Masaomi does think of Shiori and Youji as his friends.

*

It doesn't surprise her that they play very well. She didn't think either of them where the kind of people who would agree to do something unless they could do it very well.

Youji’s singing... does come as a surprise. Not just that he's talented, but also that he's completely sincere. He's singing a lot of love songs in a crooning tones and sometimes she thinks he's looking at her and it's embarrassing.

It doesn't help that Shiori keep sending knowing looks her way.

“Stop that,” Hinami says.

“I think you should date him,” Shiori says serenely.

“That's never going to happen,” Hinami says. “You date him.”

Shiori snorts a laugh. “That's what Masaomi-san keeps telling me. He very much wants me to marry Youji-san.”

Hinami scowls, not liking being compared to Masaomi in any way.

“Who knew Youji-san was such a good singer,” Shiori says, and Hinami doesn't bother replying.

*

After the concert, Hinami finds herself in the strange predicament of having dinner with Masaomi and Youji.

Shiori is there, of course, but Hinami had expected more people (there had certainly been a large crowd surrounding both men after they finished playing, including the enthusiastically weeping songwriter who kissed every member of the band and a few of the groupies, so Hinami is assuming the scouting must have gone well). When it turns out to just be the four of them, Hinami’s not sure what to do with herself. On the one hand, she is sincere about wanting to know them like how Shiori knows them. On the other hand, when it’s just the four of them, there’s an unexpected intimacy in such a small social setting.

Which, so far, has not made her like Masaomi any better.

“Man, that waiter is taking forever. Youji, go punch the waiter.”

“I'm not going to punch the waiter, Masa-chan.”

“But I'm hungry,” Masaomi pouts. It's a bit odd to hear him sound like such a whining child.

“If I go buy appetizers at the bar, will you stop whining?” Youji asks.

“Yes, please,” Masaomi says. When Youji gets up he calls after him, “Hey, don't you want my wallet?”

“I have your wallet,” Youji waves a black wallet behind him.

“Dude, if I just give you a credit card with your name on it, will you stop picking my pocket? I might need my wallet someday.”

“You haven't so far,” Youji calls, and disappears into the crowd.

“He has a point,” Masaomi says.

Shiori doesn't look surprised by this exchange, but it confuses Hinami. The easy way Masaomi assumed he’d pay for everything, the fact that he apparently wasn't all that concerned that Youji picked his pocket, and his offer to give Youji his own credit card, all spoke to the idea that the two of them had a deep relationship.

Hinami doesn't want to think about the sordid implications that Sanada made—mostly because she doesn't want to think about Sanada—but she does think there must be something about Youji’s relationship with Masaomi that she's missing.

“How long have you known Yamazaki?” she asks before realizing that she didn't particularly want to talk to Masaomi.

“Hm?” Masaomi says. “Oh, forever and ever. Almost two years now.”

“Practically eons,” Hinami says, raising a brow. “How did you two even meet?”

Masaomi smiles, and Hinami doesn't notice the strangled sort of sound that Shiori makes. “Oh, that's an excellent story. You see, he saved my life.”

“Really?” Hinami says, surprised by the answer.

“Yes, I was drowning. I'd been knocked overboard during a storm, and he rescued me. Our families are old rivals, though, so his father didn't approve. Youji had to run away, and that's why he lives with me now.”

“Oh,” Hinami says, oddly touched. That would certainly explain why Masaomi bought Youji so many things.

“Was that before or after Youji-san traded his voice to the sea witch?” Shiori asks pointedly, and Masaomi throws his head back and laughs.

“What?”  Hinami blinks.

“It's the plot of _The Little Mermaid_ ,” Shiori says and Hinami blinks. Belatedly she thinks through the broad strokes of the story Masaomi just told and realizes that there are a lot of similarities between the two narratives. She pulls herself up because she always hates it whenever anyone lies to her, and she especially hates that she believed Masaomi so easily, but Shiori rushes in with, “Masaomi-san never tells the truth when people ask him how he met Youji-san. It took me awhile to catch on, but he usually uses the plot lines to fairy tales or hit American Hollywood films. He actually toned that story way down, I am rather impressed. Be thankful he didn't tell you about Youji-san's evil stepmother.”

“Yeah,” Masaomi says, grinning, “I still can't believe that one girl bought that story. She didn't question for a second why I was living with dwarves.”

Shiori shakes her head and Youji comes back with a tray of appetizers and beer. “What's wrong? What did Masa-chan do now?”

“Hey!”

“Hinami-senpai asked how you two met.”

“Oh,” Youji says, concern fading. “Did you tell the story about growing up in a town that outlaws dancing? Because I like that one.”

“It's the plot of _Footloose_ , Youji-san,” Shiori says gently.

“Yeah, but I still liked it,” Youji says.

“Do you know how they met?” Hinami ask Shiori.

“I do not,” Shiori says with a smile.

“And you always lie?” Hinami says, turning to Masaomi.

“Maybe,” Masaomi says, smirking into his beer (Hinami forgets temporarily that he is still underage and shouldn't be drinking at all.) “But, how would anyone ever know if I was telling the truth?”

Hinami just continues to stare at him. She's no longer mad about the lie, but she can't help but feel intrigued by the mystery. Or rather, it’s not that she cares so much about how they actually met, but it intrigues her that it’s something Masaomi feels compelled to lie about. “It must be an incredibly embarrassing story, for you to hide it.”

Masaomi puts down his beer and leans in. “All right, you got me. We met in a strip club. Youji was one of the strippers, and I was young and questioning my sexuality. It was an educational night all around.”

Hinami raises both brows this time, fairly certain _that_ isn't the plot of a fairy tale and a little surprised Masaomi would confess to that so easily.

“As much as I, personally, am now going to accept that as the gospel truth for how you two met,” Shiori says, “I feel the need to point out that is the plot for the yaoi manga you read in my room last night.”

“Oh, _Midnight Secrets_ ,” Hinami says, now recognizing the story. She had _also_ read it in Shiori's room.

“You read yaoi manga?” Masaomi says delightedly.

“I'm inclined to think it's a little more shocking that _you_ do,” Hinami shoots back.

“I would read anything Shiori likes,” Masaomi says, smiling winningly at Shiori. “For no other reason but that Shiori liked it.”

“Did you read _Mansfield Park_?” Shiori queries.

“I did! Edmund Bertram is a pussy. Fanny should have married Mary Crawford.”

“You mean Henry Crawford?”

“I know what I said,” Masaomi looks at Youji. “What? You look like you're having some sort of revelation.” Hinami had been having her own revelations, so she didn't notice Youji’'s face, and now she sees his look of bewildered wonder.

“There are _male_ strippers?” Youji asks.

“Yes, Youji,” Masaomi says, sounding fond. “You're thinking about becoming a stripper now, aren't you?”

“Dude, I would make such a good stripper!”

“You would make a _fantastic_ stripper,” Masaomi reassures. “You have impressive muscles and flawless skin.” Shiori makes another noise in the back of her throat and Masaomi rolls his eyes, “We've been to a public bath house together, Shiori, get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I said nothing at all about your knowledge of Youji-san’s flawless skin,” Shiori smiles.

“There are many perfectly decent reasons for me to know that,” Masaomi says.

“And a few indecent ones,” Youji adds.

“Youji, don't feed the fangirls.”

“You're the one who brought up strippers,” Youji says mildly, “Which, by the way, I'm totally serious about, I'm a good dancer.”

“You're a great dancer,” Masaomi allows. “You can do very impressive things with your hips. Don't become a stripper.”

“Why not?” Youji pouts. “Man, this changes everything. I wish I knew that was an option years ago.”

“You don't need to be a stripper,” Masaomi points out.

“It'd be nice to have my own money,” Youji says.

“Good Lord, why?”

Youji shrugs. “People talk.” He's not looking at Hinami when he says it, but she thinks about Sanada and feels a tad guilty.

“Youji, I guarantee they will talk even more if you become a stripper.”

Youji laughs, and even Shiori is smiling her genuine smile, with her eyes shining with mirth. Hinami has never seen Masaomi like this—like he's enjoying himself, like he's an ordinary teenager.

She also can't help but think about what he said— _I would read anything Shiori likes_. Sanada hadn’t. Sanada had scorned some of her books for being “books for women” and refused to read Austen because, “She lived such sheltered a life, so all her books are shallow.”  That should have been so many warning signs right there, and Hinami curses herself all over again for being so blind, and furious at Masaomi for showing a consideration that Sanada would not.

“I'm not sure why you object so strongly, Masa-chan, there's nothing wrong with getting a part-time job.”

“Maybe I just don't want anyone else to see you naked,” Masaomi leers, causing Hinami to blink out of her thoughts. _Did he really just say...?_

“Why is it OK for you to ‘feed the fangirls’ when I can't?”

“I only say what I know Shiori is thinking,” Masaomi says, winking at Shiori.

“And I thank you for your service,” Shiori says.

They’re very interesting together—the three of them. It dawns on her that she's mostly an outsider in this, but that it's not awkward. She's content to watch them.

*

As they begin to call it a night, Masaomi announces gallantly, “I'll walk you home, Shiori.”

“How uncharacteristically gentlemanlike of you, Masaomi-san,” Shiori says.

“It's because I know Kasamatsu was about to offer. And I'm happy to deny Kasamatsu any pleasure, particularly when it would be a pleasure to me.”

“That was an excellent example of flirtation and rudeness combined, well done, Masaomi-san.”

“I _was_ going to offer,” Hinami remarks. Before, she would have insisted. She would not have trusted Masaomi alone with Shiori.

“Ever the hero,” Masaomi says. “Youji? You're not going to offer to walk our fair damsel home? See who she likes best?”

“I could not hope to compete with so many superior offers,” Youji says.

Shiori laughs. “I had no idea the right to walk me home would be such a hot commodity. As it happens, Senpai, I will accept Masaomi-san’s offer, for it will be more out of his way, and I would much prefer to inconvenience him than you.”

Hinami looks at her curiously, once again aware that before, she’d insist it wasn't an inconvenience at all. But perhaps Shiori _wants_ to walk home with Masaomi.

“All right, have a good night,” she says.

It's only after they leave that she wonders if maybe Shiori left her alone with Youji on purpose. She's not going to let her friend try and set her up, though. She eyes him knowing that if he offers to walk her home she'll have an easy time denying him.

“I would love it if you walked _me_ home, Senpai,” Youji says cheekily. “Although I know I am a poor damsel in comparison to Shi-chan.”

Hinami huffs, unexpectedly charmed. “You don't need an escort.”

“Oh, but I live in such a dangerous part of town.”

“You live in a penthouse surrounded by rich people.”

“Who are the most dangerous kind of people! What if they try to attack me with their trust funds?”

Hinami fights a smile and says, “Alright, you big baby, I'll walk you home and protect you from the rich people.”

“Thank you, Senpai. I appreciate your bravery.”

There is something she wants to talk to Youji about, so it's not a huge inconvenience to spend more time with him. When she has the chance to bring it up she ventures, “Do you think Akashi likes Shiori?”

“He does like her,” Youji says, surprised. “He would not call her his friend if he did not.”

“I mean—” and she has to stop herself from blushing, “romantically.”

Youji tilts his head. “I have no idea.”

“Did you know he breaks into her apartment?” Hinami blurts out.

“Does he?” Youji says, sounding surprised again. Then he looks pleased. “Huh. She must be really important to him. I’m glad.”

“How do you figure _that_?”

Youji shrugs. “Masa-chan doesn't believe in respecting the personal space of the people he likes. I think it's a sign that he trusts you. It's annoying, but harmless.”

Since he sounds like he's speaking from personal experience, Hinami remarks, “How much more in your space can he get? You live together.”

“Yes,” Youji says darkly. “But he walks in while I'm in the bathroom a lot, or showering, or sleeping, or if in my room jer—studying.”

“Study a lot, do you?” Hinami says dryly.

“Nightly,” Youji says, waggling his eyebrows and causing Hinami to laugh again, only to cover her mouth because she can't believe she just had _that_ conversation with Youji.

“And you don't have a problem with that?” Hinami asks, her smile fading. _It's not how it sounds_ , Shiori had said. Was it really not a problem to have Akashi Masaomi violate your privacy? Or was Masaomi just extraordinarily fortunate by making such laid-back friends?

Youji shrugs again, but he doesn't answer. When he speaks again, his tone has shifted, “To tell you the truth, I hope he is not interested in her romantically, because I don't think Masa-chan knows how to be in love yet. But Shi-chan is very sensible, and she will not get caught up in his pace, so I don't think you need to worry about her, Senpai. Masa-chan has decided she's his friend, and he is very good to his friends.”

“I am not worried about her,” Hinami says shortly, thinking over what Youji said. It was the closest she never heard him acknowledge Masaomi's faults. “I am trying to understand him, I think.”

“Really?” Youji says, sounding absurdly please.

“I still _don't_ ,” she says. “But. I will admit that it seems like he does care about the two of you.”

“Seems like,” Youji says with a half smile. “That is not a very large concession, Senpai.”

“I don't believe he's what he says he is,” Hinami says bluntly.

Youji laughs—and he has to stop walking because of how much he laughs.

“What?” she demands.

“You two,” Youji says still chuckling as he composes himself. “That's exactly what Masaomi said about _you_.”

“What!?” she says indignantly.

Youji shakes his head but starts walking again. “It's kind of uncanny, really. It's like you two are complete opposites but somehow exactly the same. Like two sides of the same coin.”

“I'm nothing like him!”

“No,” Youji allows. “You are the same but different. He doesn't believe you are genuine  either—he doesn't trust goodness.”

Was that what he was doing? Hinami wonders. Testing her goodness. Seeing if she would break. It's still infuriates her that that he thinks he even has the right to test other people's _goodness._

She looks at Youji, trying to figure him out. “What did you mean when you said he didn't know how to be in love?”

Youji smiles again, and it reminds her of Shiori. It occurs to her that they both smile as a way of wearing a mask. _Kintsukuroi_.

She hadn’t wanted to think they were similar, but they _are_ , and Masaomi had realized that a long time ago. “It's just a theory of mine, I guess. I think he's figuring out friendship, but he still gets it wrong. Like breaking into someone's apartment, or bedroom. No one ever told him that's not how you become friends with someone.

“I don't think he's ready for romantic love, to be honest. He can be very extreme with his affections.”

Hinami thinks it's probably a fair assessment, but it's far too forgiving. “And you? You’re his friend, why don't you teach him how it works?”

Youji shakes his head, smiling wryly. “I'm still figuring out that sort of stuff myself. I wish you two would get along, you’d be a good person to teach him.”

They walk a bit in silence as Hinami thinks about that, before she finally says, “No, even if we did get along, Akashi would never learn any lessons from me. I don't think the two of us could ever be friends.”

She stops walking, not able to restrain herself anymore. “Doesn't it bother you that he hurts people?”

Even as the question bursts out of her she knows there isn't much point to it. She already knows that that she'll never understand Masaomi, she'll never understand why Youji and Shiori like and forgive Masaomi, and she will always be an outsider when it comes to those three.

“‘Hurts people,’” Youji repeats, but Hinami doesn't know what he's thinking when he says it.

Masaomi nearly threw a girl who loved him off a roof. He hounded Hinami for weeks, putting more and more people in danger just to see if Hinami would save them. He tried to ‘make amends’ with Hinami but it never once occurred to him to offer reparations to other people he had tormented. He bribes foolish men to break up with their girlfriends, he tortures people just for fun.

Just to see what they're like when they're broken.

And maybe he is capable of caring about people. Maybe he genuinely likes Youji and Shiori. But that doesn't change what he is, and she doesn't think anything ever will. Certainly _she_ could not change him.

“No, I suppose it doesn't,” Youji says. She searches his face him, trying to figure him out. But he's wearing that mask again. “Everyone hurts others, Senpai. In one way or another. I know you disapprove of Masa-chan, but he is very rarely cruel. Sometimes,” he says quickly, before she can protest, “sometimes he enables the cruelty of others, but he is rarely malicious.”

_He threatened to set my parents’ murderer free_ , Hinami thinks. _And that was very cruel._

“I wish I understood you,” she says.

“Me?” Youji says, smiling faintly. “There's nothing to understand about me.” He pauses, and it looks like he might speak further, but what he does he just says, “Thank you for walking me home, Senpai.

They're not quite at his penthouse, but she watches him head out the rest of the way by himself.

Like he'd been too scared to stay one second longer in her presence.

*

“I am surprised by your offer,” Shiori remarks. “Have you finally come around to accepting the idea of Youji-san and Hinami-senpai as a couple?”

“Not hardly,” Masaomi says. “But Youji does a good enough job cock-blocking himself without me there to chaperone. And I wanted to talk to you, Shiori.”

“Oh? And what topic has plagued you so much that you would leave Youji-san alone with the object of his devotion?”

“ _Mansfield Park.”_

“Ah,” Shiori smiles. “And did you like the book, Masaomi-san?”

“You knew I would not. Is that really your favorite, or were you trying to torture me on purpose?”

“It is my favorite and I wanted to torture you,” Shiori says pertly.

“Well, that's just baffling. You confuse me profoundly. Surely, you do not relate to Fanny Price?”

“No,” Shiori says, still smiling. “If I am any Austen character, I am Mary Crawford.”

Masaomi fixes on her—giving her far more attention than most other people would by such a statement, like he understands exactly what she means and he seen her right through her. Then he nods his head. “I see.”

Since he doesn't follow up, she graciously prods, “Do you?”

“Yes. You like Fanny Price. You like her goodness. That's why you like Kasamatsu.”

She almost feels like patting him on the head. It is the very rare person who can read a book and understand exactly why they were asked to read it. But then, Masaomi is a genius.

“But why?” Masaomi says. “Goodness is boring, Shiori. It is not any wonder _Mansfield Park_ is one of the least enjoyed Austen novels.”

He looks at her like he's genuinely trying to understand something, so that's what she tries to actually explain.

“Being good is one of the hardest things to manage in this world,” she says quietly. “That is why I admire goodness in other people. Being mean is easy. It is the simplest thing to be cruel, to shatter a person. And there is nothing easier in this world than to do nothing when faced with atrocity.

“That's why I like Hinami-senpai. Because she helps people, even when everyone bullies her about it. She tries, and she keeps trying, and not because she is inherently good, but because it's the right thing to do. She could hurt people just as easily as you could, Masaomi-san, but she has decided not to. Being good is not boring—but cruelty is incredibly tiresome.”

Another man would not hear her. If Masaomi was the kind of person who did the expected things, he wouldn't make the connection to his own actions. Or he would be insulted and call her names, make her feel less than she is.

“But, Shiori, that makes your fascination with that book make even less sense,” Masaomi says, and she smiles at all the ways Masaomi is not who you expect him to be. “The moral of the novel seems to be that good people get to marry other good people and live happily ever after. Whereas the selfish, attractive, witty, rich, clearly superior in every way, but with a looser sense of propriety, remain single and alone.”

“Did you see yourself in Henry Crawford, then?”

“No,” Masaomi smiles. “That would make us siblings, and that would never do.”

Shiori laughs and shakes her head. “I don't think that's the moral. The novel makes it clear that had the Crawfords changed, they would have both been able to marry the one they loved. But Henry could not change, and Mary would not.”

“But why do the Edmund Bertrams and the Fanny Prices and the Kasamatsu Hinamis of the world get to judge us for failing their standards?”

“Have you never wanted to be a better version of yourself, Masaomi-san?”

“No,” Masaomi says. “I am sure that I am already the best possible version of myself that I could be.”

Shiori mulls this over. “So you would never change, even if it was for someone you loved?”

“I would never love someone who wanted me to change,” Masaomi says, sounding angry for the first time in their conversation. But not, she thinks, at her.

“Not even for Youji-san?”

He raises a brow at her and says, “I could not have loved Youji if he were the kind of person who only bestowed his love to the morally upright. Nor could I have loved you.”

Shiori marvels at how easily he admits his love. It is not a commonly accepted practice in their culture. “But Fanny did not ask Henry to change.”

“Edmund asked Mary to.”

“Well, Edmund Bertram was a pussy.” Masaomi throws his head back and laughs; he hasn't heard Shiori be vulgar before, even if she is just repeating his own statement back at him. “It was Henry who wanted to change for Fanny, and Henry who failed. I think I like the book precisely for that reason. Just because you want to change for someone doesn't mean you can.”

There's another one of those silences where she wishes she knew what he is thinking.

“I just don't think that's what love should be,” Masaomi says finally. “Any love where you have to change is the wrong kind.”

It's one of those statements that sounds wise and true, and perhaps like something profound people would scrawl on their notebooks, but is ultimately a much more shallow sentiment than most people are willing to realize. It is, Shiori thinks, the opposite. Most any kind of love will change you. Love on its own is a changing force. The person you are when you are in love is a very different person than the person you are when you are not. But Shiori thinks that only shows how young Masaomi really is. For all his genius and worldliness, he is still only eighteen years old, and Shiori also suspects that he is very sheltered, in his own way.

“In the course of your lifetime, how many people would you say you loved? Not just romantically, any kind of love.”

Masaomi snorts and Shiori wonders if perhaps that was a reflection of the fact that he didn't think much of romantic love. “Three, I suppose.” He looks at her with a challenge, as if daring her to ask who the three people were.

Shiori makes a point of never accepting Masaomi's challenges. “Yes, I thought it must be something like that.”

“Oh, you're falling back on condescension then? Come now, Shiori. You were going to claim I can't understand love if I have loved so few.”

“It is quite the opposite, in fact. I think the more people love, the more they realize that love is nothing that can be understood. That you have only loved a few people can only mean you are very certain when you love that person. It's honestly a kind of confidence I envy. I have loved many people I wish I hadn't.”

Masaomi smiles wryly, and his thoughts are somewhere. When he speaks again he says, “I have another question that I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. I know you’re not going to want to answer it, but I want you to know that I’m not asking lightly. And also that this isn’t easy for me, asking this question. I’m somewhat coming to accept that in many ways, you probably know more than me.”

Now Shiori is surprised and intrigued. She knows that it _isn’t_ easy for Masaomi to admit he doesn’t have the answers to something. This is probably the most vulnerable he has ever been around her before. “You certainly have my attention.”

“It’s about Youji. But I also think it’s probably about you. I asked Youji why he liked Hinami, and he said _you_ instantly understood.”

“And you’re asking me why he likes her?”

“Not exactly. He started saying something then, but he didn’t finish. He said, ‘haven’t you ever wished someone would—’ and then he stopped and asked if I wished good people existed. It haunts me, somewhat, that he didn’t finish that first question. I thought maybe _you_ would know the rest. So I’m asking you if you do.”

Shiori stops walking, so Masaomi falls in alongside her. Various emotions are warring inside her, and she thinks probably the easiest thing to do would be to lie. But there is something about Masaomi that makes her not want to do the easy thing. She clears her throat and says, “I only have a guess.”

“That’s really all I’m asking for,” Masaomi says.

“If I had to guess,” she looks away, “he was probably going to ask, ‘haven’t you ever wished someone would save you?’”

She risks looking at him, but his expression is dark and enigmatic, like parts of the sky unseen by the naked eye. So she meets his gaze and says, “That’s why he loves her, you know. That’s why we both do. Because there was a time when we both desperately wished someone would come save us, but no one did. And we look at Kasamatsu Hinami and think, _ah. She would have. If she had been there, she would have saved us._ You can’t help but love someone like that.”

Masaomi doesn’t say anything. He has accused her of being able to read minds, and she has never so desperately wished that was true.

As the silence stretches on, she begins to realize that he’s _not_ going to say anything to that. Disappointed, she says, “He probably did not finish the question because he knew the answer was that you had not ever been in that position.”

“No,” Masaomi says, his voice detached, “he didn’t finish the question because he knew that I had been. But he knew I actually did end up being saved, so I wouldn’t have understood anyway. I do know that I have been very privileged in extraordinary ways.”

Sensing that she is on very dangerous ground, but still plunging forward anyway, Shiori says, “You regret asking me the question.”

“No, I will never regret information, but,” Masaomi forces a laugh, “I wish it hadn’t been _you._ Which is stupid, because you are the only one I could have asked. But I want you to think I’m amazing, and I want to impress you so much. But you make me feel so _ignorant_ sometimes _,_ and I have to say, it’s rather depressing.”

She blinks, taken aback, and says, “That was remarkably close to a love confession, Masaomi-san.”

“Yes, it was, wasn’t it? You were one of the three, I hope you understood that.”

“I did assume, based on your earlier declaration, although that did seem presumptuous.”

“I only know one way to love, Shiori. But I don’t think that loving so few means that I am more confident with my affections. In fact, I am sure that love is more complicated than I can understand. But that's all right, I don't need to understand love, I just want to understand _you_.”

“Me?” Shiori says, strangely flattered. “There's nothing to understand about me.”

“That, my dear, is the biggest lie you have ever told me.”

“I have never lied to you, Masaomi-san.”

But he just shakes his head.

They start walking again, mostly in silence, and Shiori thinks about what it means to be a mystery to Akashi Masaomi.

She does wonder, when she's at home, and there is no longer a risk that she might ask, who the third person on Masaomi's list is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with [art of these characters](https://umisabaku.tumblr.com/post/183464051049/mist-me-i-finally-had-time-to-finish-these) by the amazing mist-me =D THANKS FRIEND!!


	5. Chapter 5

Masaomi is not used to there being so much noise when he first gets up in the morning. Largely because he is not used to there being so many people in his house in the morning.

“Your house is insane, Akashicchi,” Ryouta says.

“Thank you, Kise. Your opinion was noted the first five times,” Seijuurou replies.

“You have an _irori._ In your _living room._ ”

“That’s not _that_ uncommon,” Youji says.

“But it’s just— _there._ Why would you even need a fireplace?”

“Father likes the traditional aesthetic,” Seijuurou says. “We also have an _onsen_ outside. Furihata, did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” Furihata says, in a way that is not particularly convincing. “The bed was very comfortable.”

“Our bed was insanely comfortable,” Ryouta chirps happily, “Right, Senpai? It was gigantic and very fluffy.”

“Yes, it was fine,” Yukio snaps, and if Masaomi had to guess, he’d say the man is close to blushing.

“Your bed,” Seijuurou hones in on the singular term. “As in, you shared?”

“We have the same room and it's the best vacation ever,” Ryouta says.

Seijuurou turns to Masaomi and raises an eyebrow. “Funny, I was not given the option of sharing a room.”

“Seijuurou, you scandalous little thing, you. As I said, I promised Furihata’s mother I would make sure there was no indecent behavior conducted in this house. I made no such promise to Ryouta’s parents; Youji is here and he'll just have to chaperone his own children.”

“Nope, I’m nipping this conversation in the bud right now,” Youji says over his coffee. “It is too early in the morning for embarrassing and/or traumatizing conversations. All embarrassing and/or traumatizing conversations are on hold until this afternoon.”

“You are really no fun,” Masaomi says, over the grateful looks most of the children send Youji's way.

“Do you have an agenda, father?” Seijuurou asks coolly changing the topic.

“Always,” Masaomi smirks, knowing full well that only Seijuurou and Youji will understand that he was answering Seijuurou's real question. “I have a very full itinerary planned this week, we're all going to have so much fun!”

He starts rattling off all the things he has planned—the fancy restaurants, the helicopter tours, the museums. And he _has_ put a lot of thought into this itinerary, but all these fun trips are designed to see what kind of person Furihata is, and see how Seijuurou acts around his boyfriend.

“That all sounds...rather costly,” Yukio says with a frown.

Masaomi blinks and says, “Dear boy, I would never invite you into my house and then make you pay for things. How crass do you think I am?”

Yukio doesn't look relieved at the statement. Instead he just frowns and says, “That wouldn't be right.”

“Yukio, you don't need to feel bad about abusing Masaomi's hospitality, it's what he's here for and frankly deserves,” Youji says mildly.

This doesn't have a soothing effect on Youji’s eldest child, who flicks his eyes to Masaomi and then back to his father in a way that would be easy to miss, except that Masaomi is half-expecting it.

It's the wary glance of a person who is not used to being beholden to anyone, and who objects to putting himself in a position where he couldn't pay his own way, or pay his debts. It's also, slightly, the look of one who doesn't fully trust Masaomi's motives and because of that, really does not want to accept his money.

Simply put, it's the way Kasamatsu Hinami used to look at him, when they first met.

Yukio is the only one of the Kasamatsu children to look so overwhelmingly like his father. But he is also the only one of the kids to inherit Hinami's eyes, and her temperament. Masaomi has made a point of avoiding Youji’s children until recently, but the few times he has encountered this child, he keeps thinking about Hinami. And if _Masaomi_ thinks about Hinami, he can only imagine how Youji must feel. Masaomi wonders now what it's like for Youji to have his dead wife's eyes look at him everyday.

In that moment, Masaomi feels glad that he never had any children with Shiori.

Shiori haunts him enough without having a child version of her around as a constant reminder of his sins.

*

He has planned their first day around trips to tourist spots of Kyoto as a deliberate way to lull them all into a false sense of boring security. It pleases Furihata and Kise, at any rate, who have never been to the tourist spot on any of their previous visits to Kyoto (Furihata has visited on dates before, but Masaomi gets the sense that Seijuurou has not showed him around much, probably because he's been trying to make sure Masaomi wouldn't be around to accidentally run into them. And Kise had said, “Oh, it's been years since I was last in Kyoto, and I didn't get to enjoy the sights at the time”—and then Seijuurou had sent him a warning look, leaving Masaomi to wonder if he knew about any assassinations that occurred in Kyoto years ago.)

“Oh, Akashi—” Furihata calls excitedly as Kikaku-ji comes into view.

“Yes?” Masaomi says deliberately, and Furihata freezes, looking like a proverbial deer in the headlights. It would be comical, if it wasn't a little sad. Masaomi carries on with his playful teasing tone, “Oh, you meant Seijuurou. Why, Furihata-kun, how old fashioned! How long have you two been dating?  I thought kids these days called each other by their first names right away. You should call him Seijuurou.”

“N-no, I couldn't, it would be disrespectful—” he bites off the rest of the word, looking down, and flushing, clearly uncomfortable.

“Seijuurou, you can't tell me you don't call him by his first name,” Masaomi says, turning his tormenting onto a sturdier opponent. “You used to call people by their first names all the time, even if they were older than you.”

“I still do, Father,” Seijuurou smiles, and there's an underlying “fuck you” that makes Masaomi smile. “At times,” he continues, but he moves forward and lightly touches Furihata on the elbow and gently steers him away from Masaomi. “Did you want to show me something, Furihata?”

It's just as well that Seijuurou is maneuvering his boyfriend away, because Masaomi is sure that the expression on his face is very judgmental right now and that would only antagonize Seijuurou.

If Masaomi had been concerned with Seijuurou potential love interests—and it was an oversight on his part, but at the time, he really hadn't thought Seijuurou would ever be attracted to a human—then he would have had a conversation with him before it got to this point. He would have tried to warn Seijuurou about the kind of people who are attracted to the rich and powerful.

Because there are all kinds of people who were drawn to the rich and powerful. Some are more innocent than others, although they’re all tedious. There are a fair amount of people who are just in awe of the gifted—starstruck and flattered by the slightest attention. Masaomi has always tried to avoid those people because it would have been too easy to hurt them. It would have been like stepping on a puppy.

They’re also the people who tend to irritate him the most. They’re the kind to put him on a pedestal and worship him and never see him as a person capable of doing any wrong (and he could never date someone stupid enough to think he could do no wrong).

He never did have this conversation with Seijuurou, because he honestly didn't think he'd need to. He had trusted that if Seijuurou ever fell in love, it would be with someone worthy of his affections.

 _It would be disrespectful,_ Furihata had said, like he was putting Seijuurou on a peak he could never reach.

Masaomi must admit, he's rather disappointed Seijuurou doesn't have more sense. Seijuurou had always been like him in so many ways, it is hard to wrap his head around the idea that he'd want something so completely different in his romantic relations.

Youji brushes up against Masaomi shoulder, deliberately bumping him.

“Stop being a dick.”

*

In all fairness, Masaomi doesn't try to brush this inside. He just looks impassively at Youji and says, “This is really only confirming my sense that I should probably break them up.”

“Your son might actually kill you,” Youji warns, and he wonders if he's just wasting his breath. “Look, I didn't agree to this mad trip to watch you continually bait a seventeen-year-old boy and make him feel bad about himself.”

The kids are luckily far away at this point—even the superior hearing of the Miracles wouldn't be able to hear this conversation.

“Youji, he's a sheep,” Masaomi says, clearly frustrated.

“You don't know him,” Youji cautions.

“Do you?” Masaomi returns. “Do you have any reason to believe there's some hidden depths I am missing?”

Youji hesitates, knowing that it's a lost cause already. Masaomi very rarely changes his mind about people. Everyone Masaomi seems to respect—Youji, Shiori, Seijuurou, Akane, that gray hair kid he shipped to America—he almost instantly decided they were intriguing enough to keep around.

The only person—as far as Youji is aware—that Masaomi has ever changed his mind on was Hinami, but even she had his respect from the start. He hadn't _liked_ her, but he respected her.

If he's already written Furihata off as one of those ordinary people he despises, then there's nothing really that Youji can say that would change his opinion.

And he doesn't know Furihata well enough to defend him. He knows the boy is kind, and that he tries hard, and that he cares about other people, but these are all traits that would mean nothing to Masaomi.

“I know that both Ryouta and Seijuurou respect him, and given that they both had a past history of a very poor view of humanity, I should think that fact would at least give you reason to pause before judging too quickly,” Youji says finally.

“Which is a hedging sort of way to say you don't know of a reason,” Masaomi says.

Youji sighs, because clearly this is one of those things that he's not going to be able to explain. He _does_ think it's a mistake for Masaomi to dismiss Furihata so quickly, and not just because he wants to believe that. But it's not something he has the words for to explain.

(Shiori, Youji thinks, would have been able to explain it. Shiori always had the words. It's one of the things he misses most about her.)

“Why do you care?” Youji asks instead. “Worst case scenario, they break up eventually on their own. They're teenagers, Masaomi. If he is really is just a boring normal kid you think he is,” and assuming he's not being forced into this relationship. Youji is fairly certain that's off the table now, “Then their relationship will either go the way most teenage romances do, or Seijuurou will marry someone you find dull. Neither are scenarios that particularly warrant you intervening.”

Masaomi's jaw tightens, and Youji once again gets the sense that this is really important to Masaomi, he just can't figure out why.

“Worst case scenario,” Masaomi repeats, his voice odd.

They shouldn't be talking like this. Out in a Kyoto tourist spot in broad daylight, where their kids might overhear them. This isn't what they do. Not out in the open like this. It's very close to an argument, and Youji would rather not have this fight in public.

“Seijuurou is not a normal kid,” Masaomi says.

“Yes, Masa-chan, I do know what it's like to raise a child with unusual abilities—”

“No, you don't,” Masaomi says, and he sounds almost angry. “He has a second personality, Youji. One that is very dangerous and does not like humans much. That boy has killed and will most likely kill again and he doesn't feel particularly guilty about it. He’s a monster.”

Youji pulls back feeling—he's not sure what what. It always makes him sick when anyone calls the Miracles “monsters” and he would never expect it from Masaomi.

“You—you can't believe that.”

“I'm not saying it like it's a bad thing,” Masaomi says wearily. “ _I'm_ a monster. That's how I know what I'm talking about. Right now that boy doesn't see it. But one day he'll learn something about Seijuurou—something that shatters the illusion he's built in his mind and he'll be horrified. And that's what makes him so dangerous. There's nothing more dangerous than someone who loves you when they're convinced you must be stopped.”

“ _That's_ what this is about?” Youji exclaims as the pieces start to fall into place. “Masaomi, that was—”

“No,” Masaomi cuts in. “That's not—that's not _all_ of what this is about.”

And he just sounds... tired. Youji thinks he's never seen Masaomi look or sound so tired. Like he's given up on making himself understood and he's just tired of everything he has to carry.

“You know... you know how they say parents always want their children to have better lives than they had?” Masaomi asks.

“Yes,” Youji says warily, suspecting a trap. That's certainly all he ever wanted for his children—for them to grow up safe and loved and accepted and all those things he had never had growing up.

“That's what I would want for Seijuurou. That he never love anyone. Because God knows I’d be a million times better off if I never loved anyone.”

It's not entirely surprising that even after all these years, Masaomi can still say things that hurt him. Masaomi used to say vicious things, meant deliberately to wound, although it was rarely directed at Youji. It never bothered Youji too much, because he understood when Masaomi was just lashing out.

And even when they drifted apart later, even when Youji thought maybe Masaomi had stopped caring about him, he always just thought that loving Masaomi was a bit like loving fire—a necessary, warming light that could hurt if handled incorrectly.

Perhaps that's what makes hearing Masaomi now cut so deep—Masaomi isn't trying to hurt him now. He's not making this about Youji at all.

“What a terrible thing to say, Masaomi,” he says quietly.

“I wouldn't say it to Seijuurou,” Masaomi says.

“I meant, to _me_ ,” Youji says, but then it does become too much for him, and there's no reason at all to continue this conversation, so he just walks away.

And Masaomi lets him.

*

Youji stares at Kikaku-ji as a way of not staring at the children. Seijuurou has his arm around Furihata's waist as they look at the temple. He's like one of those large, dangerous guard dogs—a doberman, maybe, on the alert for some potential threat.

_He has a second personality, one that is very dangerous and does not like humans much._

Youji had met Seijuurou’s “other” personality first, and for the longest time he hadn't realized there was another one. He still remembers when he found out, and he feels now that he probably handled the revelation badly.

*

It was Masaomi who first brought it to his attention. “Something weird is going on with Seijuurou,” Masaomi had said, coming over to his house uninvited and using little preamble to get straight to the point.

“What do you mean?” Youji asked, alarmed, and thinking it must be bad if Masaomi was worried.

“He's acting weird,” Masaomi said, “he's _nicer_ now.”

Youji relaxed then, thinking that probably Masaomi was just having histrionics after all. “You're worried something's wrong with your kid because he's being nice?”

“Not just nice—completely different. It's like he's a completely different kid. He's polite and using honorifics now.”

“I see, you're right, suddenly displaying manners is always the first sign that something is wrong with your teenager. I suspect it must be drugs.”

“Youji! I'm being serious! He even uses ‘ore’ now instead of ‘boku.’”

“That also tends to happen with young men,” Youji said fondly, “Even Ren is starting to make the switch, it breaks my heart to see him growing up—”

“No one cares about your sentimental parenting,” Masaomi snapped, “I'm telling you, it's like he's a different kid.”

“When did this start happening?” Youji asked, politely ignoring Masaomi’s comment about his parenting.

“December.”

“So around the time he lost the Winter Cup?”

“Well, yes, but I don't see how that could be connected.”

“You mean you don't think losing might be psychologically damaging to a child who has been groomed to be a success and excel in all areas by his crazy demanding father? You're right, the two must be unconnected.”

Masaomi glared at him. “No, I don't think that this has anything to do with my parenting. I think this has something to do with Teiko.”

“Obviously,” Youji said.

“Both his eyes are red now.”

Youji paused, because all right, that was weird. “The children do glow, so changing eye color is not the weirdest thing imaginable, but I see your point.”

He inclined his head and shouted down the hall. “Oi! Ryouta!” And then a few seconds Ryouta wandered out of his room. “Did something weird happened to Seijuurou in December?”

“Akashicchi?” Ryouta looked questioningly at Masaomi but didn't remark on his presence. Which was the benefit of Ryouta being the only son home (Yukio having taken the younger boys out to the store), because he was the only one who wouldn’t ask questions about random billionaires in the house. “He lost the Winter Cup against Kurokocchi’s team?”

“Would that have made him feel inclined to be nicer to people?” Youji asked, before Masaomi could say something scathing.

But instead of the befuddlement Youji was expecting at this accusation of niceness, Ryouta's expression cleared and he said, “Oh! Yeah. His other personality came back during the game against Seirin.”

The statement is almost so absurd he would think that Masaomi had planned this whole thing with Ryouta, except Masaomi flashed a triumphant look at Youji, and Youji was fairly certain he would not be gloating so quickly if he had orchestrated this.

“Come again?” Youji said.

“We-ee-ee-llllll,” Ryouta said, dragging out the word, because clearly he didn't want to go into this. “There was always two of him. Well, ever since Gold died, there's been two of him. Although we were never sure if, like, Gold was actually possessing him after the organ transfer, or if it was just, you know, a bizarre coping mechanism.”

That was always the hardest thing about dealing with the Miracles nowadays—in many ways, they acted just like normal teenagers, caring about normal teenage things, but then every now and then they would talk about the horrifying events of their past like it was a perfectly normal thing to experience and they always looked so confused when the people they were talking to suddenly started crying.

Youji didn't start crying; he only cleared his throat a couple of times before he could finally say, “I think you should probably explain from the beginning, Ryouta.”

So, reluctantly, Ryouta explained things.

He explained how Gold and Red had been their leaders, and Gold died during a fire. He explained the fire would have also killed Red, except the scientists had put Gold’s heart and eye in Red, which had transferred some of Gold's abilities to Red. And he explained that ever since the accident, there were two different versions of Red.

This one that came after the Winter Cup, Ryouta continued on to say, he was the original Red. The one they had grown up with. It had been a very long time since any of them had seen the original Red, and Ryouta was glad he came back, because he always like the original Red best. The second Red was a little scary, and a lot like Gold, who Ryouta had liked but was also a little scared of, ever since Gold killed Rainbow.

And after all that explanation, Youji was fairly certain that both he and Masaomi had matching expressions of horror.

“This—Gold. He meant a lot to Seijuurou?” Masaomi asked, and Youji was surprised that Masaomi had fixated on that when there were so many other questions that came to mind.

“Oh, yeah, they were very close. Like Orange and Black, or Pink and White. I always thought it was weird, since Green never like anyone with his—oh.” Ryouta stopped, looking suddenly stricken for the first time in this horrible recounting of his past.

“What is it?” Youji asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Ryouta said, still looking a little gutted. He looked down and then said, “It's just that they had the same face. Red and Gold looked exactly the same except for the different colors. I guess—I guess that means they were probably brothers, doesn't it?”

Youji swallows, the lump in the throat incredibly painful. He thought the revelations about Teiko would stop making him want to break down and sob after a while, but that apparently wasn't true. “My apologies, Masa-chan,” he said after Ryouta fled back to his room. “I shouldn't have doubted you.”

Masaomi rubbed his face and then rested his cheek on his palm and said, “Not at all, Youji. This was...unexpected.”

“What,” Youji started, and it takes him two tries to finish the question. “What are you going to do?”

The minutes ticked by slowly, made ever more slow by the horribleness of the fact that the question needed to be asked.

“Nothing,” Masaomi said.

“Noth—?”

“Seijuurou hasn't felt the need to mention that... there are two of him. Given the conversation with your kid, I'm guessing it's not something that really concerns him. Or any of them. If it's a normal part of who he is, then I just need to adjust my thinking accordingly.”

“But—” Youji said, thinking, _but there are drugs, and therapy, and dear God he definitely needs therapy, and there are ways to try and treat this, there are things that should be done._

Masaomi just smiles grimly. “It would be a mistake, I think, to act like this is something we can understand. It would be dangerous to treat this like one would if a similar thing happened to a human child. And it would be too easy to do more harm than good.”

It took him awhile, but Youji eventually understood what Masaomi meant. Just because it sounded like a Multiple Personality Disorder didn't mean that it was. It was impossible to guess what happened in Teiko. Even Ryouta seemed unsure if it was a coping mechanism or the ghost of Gold.

What if they lost Seijuurou's trust because they were trying to help when there wasn't a problem?

It was a hard call to make, as so many of the guardians had to experience all the time when raising the Miracles.

And in the end, it wasn't his call. Masaomi wasn't a guardian, he was Seijuurou's legally adopted father. The entire JSDF couldn't tell Masaomi what to do with his kid.

Privately, and cowardly, Youji was glad it was not a problem he had to be concerned about.

Although he did make a point of checking with Ryouta that there were no other versions of him that Youji didn't know about.

*

Now, Youji wonders if maybe they'd all made a mistake by trusting that there wasn't a problem. None of the Miracles were concerned about the two Seijuurous and Masaomi treated both versions of his son just the same. Since it never particularly bothered Seijuurou, everyone else seemed content to just accept that this is another oddity, like the fact they all had super powers.

Out of the corner of his eye, Youji looks at Furihata. Does he know there are two versions of his boyfriend? Surely Kuroko would have told him, even if no one else did.

This is the worst part of Masaomi; he has a way of getting inside your brain and infecting your calm. Youji hadn't been particularly concerned before—the boyfriends had all been at the Special Diet. They had proven that they could hear the worst of it and stick around.

But did they _know_? Yukio did, of course. But in so many ways, Yukio is like Hinami, and Hinami would have never seen monsters. But not everyone was like Hinami, and what if one of the other kids didn't know what they were getting into?

Is that even something that the adults needed to worry about?

Youji lets out a long sigh and curses the fact that parenting is so difficult, but also mostly just curses Masaomi.

*

Furihata bites his lower lip. He's trying to enjoy himself—and he is! He's never had the chance to explore Kyoto like this, and it's always nice to spend time with Akashi. But he can't help but feel the dark cloud that's threatening rain all over this entire week.

“What is it, Furi?” Akashi says, low and only for him to hear, and his voice sends shivers down Furihata’s spine. He would usually feel quite a lot of joy in the fact that Akashi's hand is around his waist, that Akashi is so close to him and whispering into his ear and doing very embarrassing things to his libido.

Except it's all reminding him a little too much of when Akashi had to pretend they were lovers while they were abducted, and Furihata’s burgeoning panic attack shouldn't come with so much guilt. _You shouldn't be having flashbacks because your boyfriend is touching you!_ He wants to yell at himself. Except there's also the small part of him that's mad at Akashi. _Don't hold me if you think we're in danger._ And then he feels guilty about being mad at Akashi and it's all a very exhausting tempest of emotions.

“I don't think your father likes me,” he ventures.

“He doesn't have to,” Akashi says, his eyes flashing. “His opinion doesn't matter.”

 _But it does_ , Furihata thinks. _He's the only human you respect. Of course it matters._

“And you don't need to like him,” Akashi reminds him. “In fact, you should not. Please feel free to hate him, I highly encourage this as a valid approach for dealing with my father.”

Furihata smiles weakly, except he knows that Akashi is not making a joke.

“I'm, um, going to buy food,” he says, stepping out of Akashi's possessive hold. Akashi frowns, clearly not liking the fact that Furihata is leaving on his own but also picking up enough of Furihata’s mood to realize that this is what he wants.

“Alright,” he says, admirably calm. He takes out his wallet and hands Furihata an obscene amount of money.

“You don't—” Furihatas starts, but telling Akashi he doesn't need to pay never works. He suddenly feels like he needs to get away—that he needs space so that he can breathe and count to ten and try not to have a panic attack. So instead he just says, “Thanks. I'll buy enough for all of us.”

And then he darts into the crowd, aware that he's running away from his boyfriend and hating himself a little for doing so.

*

With an armful of various snacks, Furihata sits on the curb and tries to mentally regroup. He's trying to make a list of the obvious facts and not get too wrapped up in conclusions.

Fact one, his boyfriend's father disapproves of him.

(It's probably unfair to think that. Masaomi hasn't done anything that would necessarily suggest that he disapproves—except for their initial meeting—but he has this casual way of speaking that makes it seem like he's trying very hard not to be rude. It would almost be better if Masaomi would just be condescending or openly hostile—Furihata gets the distinct impression he's being written off as not even worth the effort it would take to be mean.)

Second, Akashi views his father as a threat to Furihata.

(But why? Furihata is scared to ask, because he’s afraid it'll just boil down to the fact that Akashi thinks Furihata is not strong enough to handle Masaomi. And maybe that's it. Akashi and his father have this whole “worthy opponent” thing going on and it's very clear that neither of them think Furihata is a worthy opponent.)

Three, Furihata is fairly certain he doesn't want to be a worthy opponent.

(He doesn't want to fight anyone. He's not dating Akashi to be anyone's opponent.)

Four, he is getting distinct flashbacks to the time he was abducted.

(This isn't good.)

Five.

Five.

(He's pretty sure Akashi is going to break up with him soon. Maybe Akashi doesn't know it yet, but Furihata is pretty sure that's where this is going. This isn't a fact, it's a conclusion he's trying not to think about. But he puts it on the list anyway, because he already feels terrible, so why not.)

“Furihata? You okay?”

Furihata looks up to the concerned face of Kasamatsu Yukio and feels a tremendous relief that it's him and not any of the others.

(And then he feels guilty for being relieved that it's not Akashi. Furihata feel somewhat like he's not properly equipped to handle his own emotions right now, and he would much prefer to go home and crawl into his bed and not come out again until he's ready to deal with himself.)

“Yes—yes, I'm fine,” Furihata says, a second too late, and he winces once he realizes have delayed his response was.

Kasamatsu doesn't say anything though, he just sits down next to Furihata on the curb. In a low voice he says, “We can go home, you know. My dad will drive you back to Tokyo.”

“Oh! No, I couldn't—” He's horrified at the thought of inconveniencing the Kasamatsus like that. Then he grimaces, as he thinks through the implications of Kasamatsu’s offer. “I'm that obvious?”

“Well, I'm not sure the others have picked up on the fact that you're unhappy,” Kasamatsu says generously. “I'm guessing this whole trip was kind of sprung on you?”

“Sort of,” Furihata says. “I'm not unhappy, exactly. But I think Akashi is, and I think he's worried about something, and I don't understand why.”

“I think,” Kasamatsu says carefully, “sometimes the Miracles have a habit of looking for threats. And I can't exactly blame them for that.”

He has a point, considering their background—and the fact that Akashi had been abducted at least once since leaving Teiko—it's not unreasonable for the Miracles to think there will be more danger, Furihata thinks.

“And Akashi just wants to keep you safe,” Kasamatsu says.

“Yes, I know that,” Furihata says, still glum. _If you were a different sort of person, maybe Akashi wouldn't have to worry about you so much._

Kasamatsu looks at him, and Furihata has the strangest impulse to throw himself at Kasamatsu and start weeping, and let Kasamatsu tell him that everything is going to be OK.

Instead, he just blurts out the question, “Do you ever feel like Kise deserves someone better?” and then instantly regrets it as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Because Kasamatsu is one of the most practical, confident people he knows, and of course cause he wouldn't understand—

“Of course,” Kasamatsu says, his voice gruff. “I wonder about it all the time.”

“You—you do?” Furihata says, not sure he can believe this statement.

Kasamatsu shrugs. “Kise—he's so good at everything, you know? And he's only going to get better as he gets older. He could literally have anyone in the world—he's good-looking and famous and talented. It still blows my mind that given all that, he chose _me_. _”_

“Right,” Furihata says, feeling gratified. Because that's exactly the problem with Akashi—he's so far out of Furihata’s league it just seems crazy.

“And sometimes I think he just—imprinted on me early, you know? That it's not that he likes me, exactly, but I was the first person who was nice to him, so he fixated on me.”

“I'm sure that's not true!” Furihata protests.

Kasamatsu smiles and just shrugs again. “But you can't help wondering. I think that's a normal part of any relationship.”

“Oh,” Furihata says, wondering if that is true, and feeling slightly better at the thought that maybe it is.

“Besides, sometimes I wonder if Kise would still like me so much if I didn't have the weird knack for always knowing who he is no matter what he looks like. I wonder if he likes me or the fact that I'm immune to him.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Furihata breathes out again, this time like someone has punched him in the stomach, because _that he hadn't even occurred to him_. Maybe Akashi only likes him because he is immune.

“Hey, no, it's OK,” Kasamatsu says, noticing Furihata’s expression. “The thing is—none of that matters. Kise does like me. And I like him. So the only thing that matters is that we make each other happy. There’s no point in getting hung up on anything else—everything else is not important.”

Furihata looks down again and repeats in his mind, _not important_. He hopes he does make Akashi happy. He admires the confident way Kasamatsu knows that he makes Kise happy and wonders if that's because he's known Kise for so long or if it's just something that comes with age.

“Do you want to go home?” Kasamatsu asks, sensing that Furihata is still distressed.

“No, that's okay,” Furihata laughs weakly and adds, “Akashi just has me on edge, I guess. I wish he wouldn't worry so much. I mean, it's not like I'm going to get abducted again, right? Teiko is gone.”

“Well, yeah, to an extent,” Kasamatsu says, giving Furihata a curious look. “But since it has a way of coming back, it's not Akashi's fault he's worried.”

“Coming back?” Furihata says.

“Well, sure. There was that whole thing with Jabberwocky, and Haizaki, and whatever was going on with Midorima’s evil twin. Add that with the recent revelations about the Legacy line, and the Miracles are probably all feeling justifiably paranoid… uh… why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh,” Furihata says for a third time. He’s not sure how he looks, but if it's anything like he feels, he must resemble someone who has just been hit by a bus. “It's just. I have no idea what you're talking about.”

*

“Wouldn't it be easier to just _talk_ to your dad?” Kise says in that whining, pouting voice that Akashi particularly loathes.

“For the last time Kise, no. That's not how this works.”

“But, like, you don't know he's a threat to Furihatacchi. And he's kind of a useful guy. Maybe he'd be able to help with our other problem.”

Akashi scowls. “He is not any more talented than Momoi, and if she has not been able to track down any more information about the Legacy line, then _he_ could not.”

“I'm not doubting Momoicchi,” Kise sulks, and Akashi resists the urge to hit him. He's beginning to understand Kasamatsu’s approach to dealing with Kise a little better. “I'm just saying, he might have avenues we don't. It's not like you suspect him of being connected with them—do you?”

“No,” Akashi says shortly. Because he doesn't—he's pretty sure Masaomi is not connected with the Legacy lines. But he knows his adoptive father too well to not realize that he might be setting himself up as... a third-party for lack of a better phrase.

He tries to explain this to Kise, who just looks at him in a particularly stupid fashion. “I have no idea what you're talking about. “

Akashi sighs. “Masaomi-san is doing something in America. I believe he has a facility there of some kind, and I suspect he is at least in contact with the Legacy.”

“You think he's setting up another Teiko?” He yelps, finally proving that he's able to keep up with a conversation.

“Yes, Kise, yes that is one of my suspicions. I have not been able to fly out to America myself to check out what is happening, but I have come to believe that Masaomi-san is setting himself up as a third player in the grand scheme of the Legacy and what remains of Teiko.”

“And you still _live_ with him?”

“I don't believe he's a threat. Not yet.” Akashi hasn't brought this up with the others because he doesn't think that whatever Masaomi is doing poses a threat to the Miracles. (Furihata is a separate issue. Until he knows why Masaomi—and the Legacy—want an immune human so badly, Akashi will not trust anyone.)

“That seems like something you should try to find out! Isn't there some other way besides flying out to America yourself to figure out what he's doing?”

“It has never been a full priority until now,” Akashi says sharply, because he doesn't like Kise's implication that Akashi has been lax with security. Up until Masaomi began his heavy-headed maneuvering of meeting Furihata, Akashi hadn't thought it prudent to be concerned with what his father was doing.

But Kise just rolls his eyes. “I wasn't judging. I just think, there's probably other ways to get information, you know? We don't always have to do everything on our own.”

Akashi pauses and then says, “That is a strange declaration coming from you.”

“Yeah. I know,” Kise says, looking uncharacteristically serious. “Akashicchi, I'm trying to learn from past mistakes. Every time we try to do something on our own, we only get out of it because someone we should have trusted from the beginning came and helped us. That whole thing that happened with the Legacy—when Senpai was taken—I thought I was going to _die_. I thought maybe he’d been—you can’t imagine what it was like, when I thought he might be dead.”

Akashi can imagine that, and the very thought fills him with homicidal intent.

“And after, I kept thinking about how close I came to losing him, and how it all could have been avoided if we had just talked to Youji-san beforehand, or if I called for backup from you guys sooner. We don't always have to act. And we don't always have to do it on our own.”

There is still an instinctive chafing against being lectured by anyone in his Generation, but Akashi is self-aware enough to realize that this too is a part of what Kise is trying to warn against. They don't always have to fall back on the patterns of Teiko.

And as much as he would very much like to dismiss Kise, Akashi also realizes that the Yellow Project has matured a lot since their time in Teiko. And the events with the Legacy-line had changed him. Kise is stronger now. Not just mentally, but also as a Project. Akashi himself has caught a glimpse of that in Iwatobi. It would be a mistake to underestimate Kise now.

“Are you sure you can't just talk to your dad?”

“No,” Akashi says slowly, “I am fairly certain that I could not. But, there might be someone else I can call. You are right, I don't necessarily need to fly out to America myself.”

Kise looks at Akashi suspiciously, like he doesn't think Akashi is actually listening to what he has to say.

“Do me a favor and check up on Furihata,” Akashi says. “I believe he is distressed by my father's behavior, and I need you to make sure that Masaomi doesn't talk to him anymore.”

“Where are you going to be?” Kise says, distinctly alarmed at the thought of having to comfort another man's boyfriend.

“I'm going to make a phone call,” Akashi says.

“Now?” Kise says.

“There's no time like the present,” Akashi says, matter of fact.

If he wants to know what his father is up to, then he has to figure out what Masaomi is doing in America.

And, as luck would have it, there is someone who can tell him what he needs to know.

*

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Mayuzumi snarls.

“I would not have called you if it was not important, Mayuzumi-san,” Akashi says mildly.

“You're calling me from yesterday. That's what time it is in America right now. If we were in the same country, I would murder you.”

“Nonsense, Mayuzumi-san. You’re a corporate employee now, you should be waking up anyway.”

“If this is about your love life again, I swear to God I will kill you if it's the last thing I ever do on this earth.”

“It most likely would be,” Akashi says, still not impressed with Mayuzumi's threats. The former Rakuzan student grumbled a lot, but Akashi is sure that Mayuzumi appreciates being consulted for advice. “As it happens, this is not about Furihata.” Not technically, at any rate. “This is about my father.”

“Oh Jesus, I'm pretty sure that's worse.” Akashi  hears a rustling sound and guesses that Mayuzumi is getting up. “What’s he done now?”

Akashi takes a moment to consider that it is very convenient to have Mayuzumi working for his father, if for no other reason than it's nice to have someone else instantly understand what it's like having to deal with Masaomi.

“Why did he send you to America?” Akashi asks, not seeing much point in beating around the bush.

“If you woke me up for small talk, murder is still not off the table. Get to the point.”

“I was,” Akashi says. “My father has a facility in America, does he not?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen it?”

“Yeah? I work there. Sorta.”

“ _You_ work at Masaomi-san's genetics facility?”

“You mean the Center? It's a rehabilitation clinic.”

Akashi thinks it’s just as well Mayuzumi can't see his expression at the moment. Akashi is sure the other man would be insulted. “He told you it was a rehab center?”

“It _is_ a rehab center. For the kids rescued from the second Teiko. How do you not know this? Don't you control his money?”

“Masaomi has been very proprietary over his affairs in America,” Akashi says. Although he had heard a lot of the second Teiko kids were sent to a clinic in America, he had not made the connection with Masaomi's affairs. He struggles to rein in his temper.

He feels a certain responsibility for the children who had been abducted. They had already suffered so much, he doesn't want them wrapped up in anyone else's schemes. To think that Masaomi is meddling with their lives tries the very edges of his control.

“Dude,” Mayuzumi says tiredly, “Your dad might be the devil incarnate but he's not actually evil. Those kids are really happy here. More than they could be anywhere else.”

While Akashi can appreciate the fact that Mayuzumi knows him well enough to trace the patterns of his thoughts, Akashi reflects that he would not be this the first one to be lulled into a false sense of security when it comes to Masaomi. “I am glad you think so, Mayuzumi-san, but Masaomi is incapable of doing anything without ulterior motives.”

“I'm sure,” Mayuzumi says, sounding faintly amused. “But this isn't some front for evil genetics experimentation. Believe me, I checked.” Akashi doesn't reply and Mayuzumi just snorts. “You don't trust him. Almost like your messed up point system and antagonistic battles with each other is actually an unhealthy relationship.”

“Thank you for registering your opinion, Mayuzumi-san.”

“Hey, you called _me_ , remember? That officially means I can register all the opinions I want.” There's a pause, and Akashi suspect that Mayuzumi is rubbing his face, still trying to wake up. “Look, if you want to come out here yourself, I'd be happy to give you an extensive tour of all the goings-on in America. Whatever your father's motives are, he's not hurting these kids. And, weirdly, I suspect he has _your_ best interest at heart. So whatever your current beef with your dad is, maybe you should, I don't know, try talking to him?”

Akashi scowls and mildly regrets getting Mayuzumi the job with Masaomi's company. He has clearly been compromised.

“—oh, is that Red?” Akashi hears someone say on Mayuzumi’s end. “Tell him ‘hi!’”

“No, tell him yourself,” Mayuzumi snaps.

“Is that—” Akashi says, appalled. “Is that Nijimura Shuuzou? The Rainbow King?”

“Ha! Rainbow King. I love it. That should be your internet handle.”

“Shut up.”

“What are you doing with him at this hour?” Akashi demands.

“We were watching movies late last night,” Mayuzumi says, around the same time a much closer sounding voice croons, “Oooh, Chihiro, come back to bed,” and Akashi’s brain dies.

“Oh, fuck you, shove off,” Mayuzumi huffs as the sound of Nijimura’s wicked cackle echoes in the phone. “I slept on the couch, ignore him.”

Akashi is fairly certain he's not capable of processing information at the moment. “What,” he starts in a strangled voice, but then realizes that is a doomed sentence with nowhere to go.

“Anyway,” Mayuzumi says loudly, clearly steering the conversation away for Nijimura, which is just fine, as far as Akashi is concerned, “SAPRRCOE isn't something you need to be concerned about.”

“What?” Akashi says. He is fairly fluent in English, but he doesn't recognize the word Mayuzumi uses. “Sap—?”

“SAPRRCOE. You didn't even know the name? It's the Shiori Akashi Physical Rehabilitation Research Center of Excellence.”

Akashi startles. He would not have expected Masaomi to name the Center after his wife.

“Oh, hey, that reminds me, I kept meaning to ask you, do you remember meeting a girl in the second Teiko named Marie?”

“No,” Akashi says absently, still mulling over the implications behind Masaomi honoring his wife in this way. Surely he would not have used her name simply out of nostalgia, that was not Masaomi's way.

“Right, you wouldn't have known her name. Ugh, I don't remember her designation. It's too early in the morning. She was Spliced with a White Project?”

“No,” Akashi says sharply, as he hones in on what Mayuzumi is saying. “There wasn't anyone like that in the second Teiko. There couldn't have been a White Splice.”

“Yeah? There was?”

“That's impossible,” Akashi says, indignant. “There was never a Successful White Project.”

“Yeah, that confused me too. I wouldn't have thought they'd Splice any of the unsuccessful projects, but there's a Black Splice here too, and—”

“That's not why,” Akashi interrupts. “It's because there wouldn’t have been any White organs to Splice. A byproduct of all the White Projects’ abilities was extreme damage to their bodies. All the White organs failed in every Generation. They would not have been viable to keep, and thus Teiko could not have Spliced any into a child. Whoever you met is lying to you.”

There's a silence as Mayuzumi thinks this over. “Well, I don't know what to tell you. She didn't seem like the type to lie about something like that. And anyway, she wanted me to tell you that she remembers you.”

“Then she's lying again. I have met no such person.”

“Fine. Whatever. Maybe she was thinking of the other Miracles. But she said to tell you that she remembered you. Oh. And Cairo.”

Akashi freezes. “What?”

“She said to tell you she remembered Cairo.”

*

“What a bunch of gloomy faces!” Masaomi says cheerfully when they all regroup. “You’d think we were at a funeral.”

Youji eyes the kids—they do seem rather glum. Both Seijuurou and Furihata seem lost in their own thoughts, and for once Seijuurou isn't clinging to the human boy like an overprotective Great Dane. Yukio is frowning, like something is bothering him. Picking up on the anxiety of everyone else, even Ryouta looks concerned.

Youji is aware that his own expression is probably similarly gloomy. He been wondering if maybe he should intervene and call this whole thing off. After all, the only thing he'd really been concerned about was whether or not Furihata was in this relationship consensually. If Masaomi is no longer concerned on that front, then Youji doesn't see much point in prolonging this awkwardness.

“Well, I know what will cheer you up,” Masaomi says. “Guess what are evening plans are?” When no one guesses he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “You guys are no fun at all. It's like you don't even care that I acquired tickets to the game tonight.”

That got an instinctive reaction, and Youji notices that both he and Seijuurou scowl at this obvious manipulative ploy. Everyone else perks up at the news.

“The Warriors game?” Furihata says, excitedly.

“That would be the game, yes,” Masaomi says triumphantly. “I have front row tickets. We’ll be close enough for the players to sweat on.”

“No way!” Ryouta says. “That's so cool!”

Youji stifles a sigh. But since at least three out of four of the kids are placated with this, he won't spoil the fun by explaining to his sons why they shouldn't be swayed by flashy men with lots of money.

*

Because he has been getting increasingly demanding text messages all day from Michiru, Youji feels like he should probably have a conversation with his eldest son.

To be fair, Masaomi seems to have returned to his charming mode, doing his best to be kind and pleasing, so much so that most of the awkward tempers have been soothed since the afternoon. So Youji is inclined to think it's probably okay to leave Masaomi alone for the evening.

And a larger part of him is too irritated with Masaomi so he's coming to the conclusion, _Fuck it, I'm going on this date_. If only to prove to himself that he's not forever going to be caught up in Masaomi’s pace.

The largest part is screaming, _You asshole. You can't just abandon your kids to go on a blind date that you don't even particularly want to go on just because you're mad at Masaomi._

Thus, he's decided he needs to talk to Yukio.

“So, having fun?” he asks awkwardly when he manages to corner Yukio alone.

“Er,” Yukio says, frowning. Yukio is too much of Hinami's son to be able to tell a pleasant lie, so he just says, “I've had worse vacations.”

Youji snorts. Considering Yukio had been abducted and beaten up by a crazy uncle he’d  never met on his last vacation, that was a pretty low bar.

“How is Furihata-kun doing?”

Yukio grimaces, like he's feeling guilty about something. “I, uh, might have complicated things between him and Akashi.”

“ _You_ did?”

“I, er, didn't realize there were some things Akashi hadn't told his boyfriend about.”

Youji can't help it. He laughs—although he stifles it when Yukio scowls at him.

“It's not funny! I think I might have really messed things up between those two and I feel really bad about it!”

“Of course,” Youji says. “And I'm sorry for laughing. It was just such a— _normal_ thing. This sort of thing happens a lot the longer you're in a relationship.”

“No, I'm fairly certain this is not the usual thing that happens in relationships,” Yukio says.

“They situation is,” Youji amends, “even if whatever it is Seijuurou kept from Furihata-kun isn't the sort of thing most couples have to deal with. Trust me, Yukio, inadvertently stirring shit up in someone else's romance is very normal.”

“That is... incredibly disturbing,” Yukio says, still frowning. “At any rate, I want to try and fix this.”

“Ehhh. Best not. The more you involve yourself, the worse it'll be in the long run.”

“I thought the whole point of this awkward family vacation is because we were involving ourselves,” Yukio says dryly, and yeah, he has a point there.

“So…” Youji starts, thinking this wasn't the worst segue imaginable, but it certainly didn't make this conversation easier, “on a scale of one to ten, how pissed would you be if I, say, disappeared for a bit this evening?”

Yukio glowers. “About a thousand. Where are you going?”

Youji grimaces. But he promised Yukio that he keep him in the loop on this. “Michiru is insisting I go on a blind date with someone she’s setting me up with. Since she's holding your brothers hostage, I sort of feel like I have to.”

He braces himself for Yukio's outburst, ready to face the most justifiable wrath of his eldest child. But Yukio just raises his eyebrows. “You're going on a date?”

“A blind date,” Youji corrects. “Practically not a date at all, since I've never met the person. It'll be incredibly awkward and then I'll come back with a  renewed conviction of remaining a bachelor.”

Dear god, he actually feels like fidgeting like some kind of embarrassed schoolboy. He really underestimated how humiliating it would be to talk about his love life with his children.

(Or at least, _this_ child. Youji wonders if this conversation would be easier if Hinami's eyes weren't staring at him, but he instantly feels ashamed of the thought.)

Youji clears his throat. “Of course, if you'd rather I stayed, I will. Or, you know, if you're uncomfortable with the idea—”

“No, that's not it,” Yukio says, frowning slightly. “Although your timing kind of sucks.”

“It's entirely Michiru's fault. I suspect she was waiting to get her hands on my offspring just so she could blackmail me into this.”

Yukio shrugs. “OK. Is it something you _want_ to do?”

This is a harder question to answer, and Youji struggles with how to explain that he's trying to get over a doomed crush on his best friend when he's currently staying over at said best friend's house. Since that is too complicated to get into he says, “It's... probably something I should start doing. Dating, I mean. It's... probably time.”

“OK,” Yukio says.

Youji waits for Yukio to say something else, but when he doesn't it seems like maybe the matter is settled. “So... you're okay with me abandoning you with Masaomi for a couple of hours?”

“We're just going to a basketball game,” Yukio says with a shrug. “I'll be fine.”

“OK,” Youji says. And for lack of anything better to say, he claps Yukio on the shoulder and then darts away.

*

Of course, the next step would be explaining this to Masaomi. But since he's still mad at Masaomi for his earlier comment he just says, “I'm heading out for a couple hours. You better be on your best behavior around the kids or I'm going to be the one shoving you into an oven, got it?”

“Youji, I've been a _saint_ this entire time, I'm not a— wait, where are you going?”

“Something came up,” Youji says. “I promised Michiru I'd let her arrange something, and she has my other two kids, so I'll be out. I'll be back by the time the game ends.”

Masaomi looks at him suspiciously. “Arrange something? How deliberately mysterious.”

Exasperated, Youji huffs and says, “A date, I'm going on a blind date, are you happy?”

“What?” Masaomi exclaims. “You don't date!”

“Well. I might. I'm trying something new.”

“And you're starting _now_? While you're in Kyoto?” Masaomi moves forward, and has to settle himself back down, twitching slightly like he's stopping himself from finishing half-attempted actions.

“It's not ideal, but I think Michiru's thoughts were that if I didn't go now, I'd always find a way to back out in the future.”

“But why is this even happening?” Masaomi asks, agitated. “You've never dated anyone. That's not that's not what you do.”

“I know,” Youji says, and for a second everything else fades away. His anger from this morning, his own stupid thing about Masaomi, and all the weirdness that's happened over the years between them. And Masaomi is just Masaomi, Youji’s best friend, who was always terrified the people he loved would leave him behind. “I just—I think it's time to start. Ren’s in middle school now, and—it just seems like it's time, I guess. Hinami—Hinami wouldn't have wanted me to be like this. I've known that for a while now.”

Although, all things considered, Hinami probably would have been a fan of Youji dating Masaomi. But since that's not an option, he figures Michiru is right. Hinami would have disapproved of his prolonged celibacy.

“I just didn't think…” Masaomi trails off, and it is slightly vindicating to know that Youji could throw Masaomi for a loop like this. It's been a long time since Youji has seen Masaomi  stunned. Masaomi, for all that he is a big believer in technological progress, does not like change much. He is most likely disturbed at the thought of Youji introducing someone new into their lives that he’ll have to get along with. “But you haven't,” Masaomi continues, as if he keeps reminding Youji of all the dating he hasn't done will get his point across. “You haven't so much as looked at another person after Hinami died, and all of the sudden _now_ you're thinking about dating?”

Youji jerks slightly, and wonders if Masaomi notices. He has to keep his face very blank so he doesn't say something stupid like, _I climbed onto your lap and stuck my tongue down your throat, or does that not count as_ looking _?_

Youji is not sure what he finds more depressing—the idea that to Masaomi it genuinely didn't count or the idea that maybe Masaomi actually _forgot_ the whole humiliating debacle ever occurred.

“As I said. It was time to start looking.”

“Well. Good for you,” Masaomi says, regaining his composure, and demonstrating that he's matured somewhat. “Time to get back into the saddle and whatnot. I promise not to bake any children into soup while you're away.”

“That's all I ask,” Youji says dryly.

“What's her name?

“Who's?” Youji says, genuinely confused.

“Your date?”

“Oh. His name is Everett something. He's American.”

“He—you're dating a man?”

“It was always a possibility,” Youji says, wondering if Masaomi somehow _forgot_ he was bisexual.

“Yes, I know, right. I knew that.”

“And I'm not _dating._ It's _a_ date. There's no commitment. Just behave, OK? When I come back I promise I won't be disappearing anymore.”

“Right,” Masaomi says.

He seems distracted, and also maybe confused, so Youji almost feels like belaboring the point just to make sure Masaomi is not going to do anything destructive and stupid, but that might just make what is already awkward and terrible even worse. So.

Youji leaves.

*

Between awkward discussions with Yukio and awkward discussions with Masaomi, Youji hasn't had the time to really think through the more personal implications of this fiasco.

Namely, that he hasn't gone on a date in over twenty-one years.

Youji wonders if maybe that was another reason why Michiru sprung this date on him now—to purposefully insist he go on this date while he has other things on his mind so he couldn't overthink what was about to happen. Because probably, if he’d just been in his own home, with all his children nearby, he’d overthink things and probably back out of this whole endeavor.

 _Hinami_ , he thinks desperately, missing his wife with a fierce ache that still feels fresh even after all these years. The biggest reason he never dated is because he just didn't want to confront the fact that he never wanted to date anyone else after Hinami.

 _Stop being a coward_ , Youji, he yells at himself. Maybe he wanted Masaomi because he knew it wouldn't be like this—awkward and miserable and wrapped up with thoughts about Hinami. But no, that was too simple of a reason. It would have been easy dating Masaomi, because being with Masaomi is easy, usually, but his feelings about Masaomi are too complicated to be reduced like that.

... And now he's sitting in his car, thinking about the woman he loves who is dead and the man he loves who doesn't love him back and he's severely depressed.

On that note, he might as well go on this date, because it's not like he could feel worse about himself.

With that rallying thought, he gets out of his car and head towards the restaurant.

*

The man is easy enough to spot, even if he hadn't been directed to the table by the hostess. He's the only Caucasian in the restaurant, and when he sees Youji he smiles and stands up to greet him.

“Everett Wyndham-Smythe, it's so great to finally meet you,” the man introduces himself in flawless Japanese. He has a firm handshake and Youji finds that he's relaxing somewhat despite the horribleness of the situation. Everett has green eyes like pale jade and brown hair, and Youji is surprised to find he’s slightly taller than himself. Everett doesn't have the build of someone who has to use his muscles (like an athlete, or soldier) but he's fit, like someone who puts in the effort to work out at least once a day. ( _Like Masaomi,_ Youji's brain supplies. _Don't compare him to Masaomi_ , Youji tells his brain. _You knew you were going to compare him to Masaomi_ , Youji’s brain says right back. Youji stops thinking once he realizes he's arguing with himself.)

“Michiru warned me you might not make it. I'm glad you did,” Everett says as they sit down.

“She was very persuasive,” Youji says, feeling slightly awkward again. “Sorry, you say ‘finally’ like you wanted to meet me for a while, but I've got to confess, I've never heard about you from Michiru before.”

Everett laughs, and it's a pleasant enough sounds that Youji smiles apologetically. “Yes, I imagine that's true. Michiru is a very protective friend.”

“She was respecting your privacy?” Youji guesses, and even if the sushi restaurant they’re in didn't scream ‘way more than a military income can afford,’ Youji's been around Masaomi ( _Stop comparing him to Masaomi!_ ) to recognize the signs of wealth: designer suit, brand name watch, gold cufflinks. He's feeling a little shabby and underdressed and he's a little worried about paying for this meal. He certainly doesn't want to assume Everett will pay for it—and he won't allow it, even if Everett insisted, because this isn't a real date and Youji is not a debutante who needs to be impressed—but he's fairly certain he can't afford this dinner, even if he's just paying for himself.

_(Would it be weird to use one of Masaomi's credit cards? Yes, yes it would be, don't do that. Also, stop thinking about Masaomi.)_

“No,” Everett says, smiling, “I meant she is very protective of you. I made it clear ever since I first met her that I was interested in you, but she has always closely guarded your information. She said since you weren't interested in dating, she refused to introduce me to you. It was a bit mean of her, but I understood. She's a good friend.”

“She is,” Youji says carefully, thoroughly confused. “Sorry, I'm still a little lost. Why on earth did you want to meet me?”

“Oh gosh, I'm messing this up, aren't I?” Everett says, charming in a surprisingly folksy sort of way. “There's probably no way I can explain this without sounding like a creep, but I've been interested in you for a while now. I was following the story about the Miracles fairly closely, and I always found your story captivating.”

“You were interested in the Miracles?” Youji says skeptically, because he's fairly sure Michiru wouldn't have set him up with this guy if he was a Miracle-fanatic. All the guardians had encountered that before. The people who are dazzled by the Miracles and saw them only as celebrities instead of as children. Michiru tended to punch those people when they harassed her about Momoi. Youji wasn't much better.

“Very innocently, I promise,” Everett reassures. “Michiru has already thoroughly vetted  me. I find them interesting, but tragic. I’ll admit I initially contacted Michiru for the inside scoop. She told me to fuck off, and then found out I was rich, so she arranged a meeting, got a few incredibly expensive meals and shopping trips out of the deal, then told me to fuck off again. She's an impressive woman, and I like her a lot.”

Youji laughs despite himself. “Yeah, that sounds like Michiru. So, then what happened?”

Everett shrugs. “Then we became friends, I guess. I respected her boundaries. And, honestly, I'm more impressed with the soldiers who took them in, then the kids themselves. That's really why I wanted to meet Michiru, and you, as the first responding sergeants. I kept thinking that if it had been the American military who made first contact, those kids probably would have been killed. Or locked up forever. I think what you did was really impressive.”

“Not really,” Youji says shortly. Everett seems very open, and his honesty about the subject gets him a lot of points. Youji is beginning to see how he might have won over Michiru.

“So you became sort of my celebrity crush,” Everett continues, grinning. “And I was very upfront about my interest to Michiru, who protected your contact information like a mother tiger.”

Youji thinks he might be blushing—he hopes not, but it certainly feels warm in here all of the sudden. “I'm not a _celebrity_.”

Everett laughs again, and Youji has to admit it's a nice sound. “I can't be the first one who has ever told you that! You have a fan website. I know a teenage girl who has your photo on her wall.”

“You're making that up!”

“I'm not, she's my daughter. I didn't have the heart to tell her we had a crush on the same person, because it was a traumatizing discovery for me, although I did wonder if I needed to have a conversation with her about age-appropriate love interests.”

“Oh God,” Youji covers his face with his hands and now he's positive he's blushing. “ _Please_ tell me you're making that up.”

“Honestly, I wish I was, it's very unnerving when Ashleigh talks about you. I'm not sure what it says that I have the same taste in men as my daughter.”

“I could see that as being incredibly awkward,” Youji allows, finally relaxing. “Michiru didn't mention that you had a kid.”

“Three of them, two girls and a boy,” Everett says cautiously, “is that a problem?”

“No, God no, I have four boys of my own. The opposite, really.” He hopes he still isn’t blushing. “My kids are everything to me. I think I held off on dating again for so long because I wasn't sure if—you know.”

“If people would understand,” Everett nods, proving that he does understand. “Especially since most single gay men don't have children. It can be hard to date someone who doesn't have kids of their own.”

“Right,” Youji says, relieved that he does get it, but then wondering if he was committing to the fact that this was a date.

“Here, I have something for you,” Everett says, picking up a bag at his feet and passing it to Youji. “You don't need to be alarmed, it's just something I always wanted to give you, if we ever met. You don't need to think of it as a date present, it's just something I thought you should have.”

“Well, that's cryptic,” Youji says cheerfully as he unwraps the present, already feeling odd about accepting a gift on this first not-date. “And you shouldn't have, I didn't—oh my God.” He stares at the gift in disbelief and then looks up, “Is this—?”

“The original? Of course,” Everett says, sounding smug.

Youji swallows, and looks down at the framed photo in his hands. It's _the_ photo—the Pulitzer Prize winning photo of him, kneeling down and hugging Ryouta, as the other Miracles huddle behind. There are armed JSDF soldiers on one side and the children on the other. It's an incredible photo, and there's no question as to why it captured the world's attention and why it won a Pulitzer, but to Youji it will only ever be the captured moment of the first time he met his son.

“I can't accept this,” he says, his voice thick and regretful. “I tried to buy it once, but the photographer was kind of a dick about it.”

Not unreasonably, Youji thinks. It is the most famous photograph in the world right now, And worth at least some several thousand dollars. But it wasn't a commodity to Youji, it was personal. He had wanted it so badly he'd even debated asking Masaomi to buy it for him. But while he easily spent thousands of Masaomi's money on others—refugees, habitat supplies, doctoring—he balks at spending Masaomi's money on himself. Not that Masaomi would mind but...Youji would.

He's pretty sure Masaomi would have bought the photo for him, if he'd known Youji wanted it.

But, Youji thinks tiredly, it would have never occurred to Masaomi that it would be something Youji wanted.

_So what if you do end up comparing them? There's dozens of ways it would be more favorable to the other guy._

Michiru had been right about that, which only makes Youji feel even more bitter about this.

“I insist,” Everett says firmly. “Like I said, this is something I felt should belong to you. Please don't think of it as having any kind of strings attached. Although, if I was being completely up front with you, I will admit that I am trying to seduce you.”

Youji's lips quirk. Because, OK, it's been a very long time since... _anything_ , and, well, it certainly is nice to be seduced. “If I was going to be completely up front with you,” Youji says, putting aside the photo carefully to meet Everett’s gaze, “I would tell you that you're succeeding.”

*

It’s almost insane how well the dinner goes. Youji very sincerely had not expected anyone Michiru set him up with to be anything short of a disaster, but he's genuinely clicking with Everett and definitely considering a second date. (And maaaaybe slightly considering the logistics of going home with this man. Because what the hell. Everett is stupidly attractive and Youji is in the mood for some terrible life choices.)

Everett is already proving that some billionaires can still be surprisingly down to earth (and yes, Youji is still comparing him to Masaomi), with a clear-headed approach to politics and talking a lot about his children.

Long after the meal is finished, they're still talking and drinking wine, and Youji starts to get more of Everett's life story.

“My family is very old-fashioned, traditional. When I was younger, I didn't know how to rebel against that, so I just did what was expected. I married Elizabeth when I was twenty, and still hoping the gay thing would go away.”

“How'd that work out?” Youji sympathetically, having grown up with his own traditional family.

“Surprisingly, not the disaster you'd expect. Elizabeth is still my best friend, even if we're no longer together. I was worried about what my kids would think but Lizzie—my second youngest, not the one who has a crush on you—informed me that ‘it's the 21st century, everyone is gay,’ and sent me some very educational links on Tumblr.”

Youji laughs and says, “She sounds amazing.”

“She is,” Everett beams. “All my kids are brilliant. I'm proud of them.” He takes out his phone to show Youji pictures, which of course prompts Youji to take out his phone and show off pictures of his sons, (and maybe he's thinking about how their kids are similar enough in age to be friends. He is definitely not imagining the gay version of _The Brady Bunch_ or anything like that, but, it's certainly a fun thing to absolutely not imagine.)

Youji is so engrossed with how well the date is going that he doesn't see Masaomi walk in the restaurant.

*

“Hi! Mind if I join you?”

Youji spits his wine back into his glass and coughs. Masaomi does not actually wait for an answer. He takes a chair from another table and pulled up right next to Youji and sits down.

“What are you doing here?” Youji hisses.

“Why, nothing Youji, I just happened to be around,” Masaomi says innocently. He smiles at Everett, like the baring of fangs, and says, “You must be Everett Wyndham-Smythe, it's lovely to meet you. I'm Akashi Masaomi.”

“I know,” Everett says, looking at Youji curiously before glancing back to Masaomi. “We've met before. At an academic conference in Berlin.”

“Have we?” Masaomi says, sounding genuinely surprised. “I apologize, I never remember anyone who's not important.”

“Masaomi!” Youji says.

“Not at all, I would not have expected you to remember me, you were very preoccupied with insulting the Danish ambassador.”

Masaomi laughs. “ _Her_ I do remember. She was feisty.”

“So you two know each other?” Everett asks with much more graciousness than Youji would be able to exhibit, if their positions were reversed.

“Oh,” Masaomi leers. “Youji and I are _really old friends_.”

There are two things that stand out about the way Masaomi says this. First, that he says it would such laden emphasis that anyone would suspect the term to be an innuendo for something much more salacious.

And second, that he drops his hand onto Youji’s lap when he says it, and strokes the inside of Youji's thigh.

*

“Masaomi,” Youji says through gritted teeth. “I will stab you with a fork.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Masaomi says, and then he squeezes Youji's thigh and Youji twirls the fork in his hand menacingly.

“I am very happy to meet any friend of Youji's,” Everett says with a smile. “I'm looking forward to meeting all of Youji's acquaintances at some point.”

“That's a tad presumptive on a first date, don't you think?” Masaomi’s smile could shatter glass.

“I'd prefer to think of it as optimistic,” Everett says.

“Masaomi was just leaving,” Youji announces.

“Don't be ridiculous, Youji,” Masaomi croons and _he still hasn't removed his hand_. “We're all just getting to know each other. How is your lovely wife doing, Everett? You are still married, aren't you?”

Youji takes note of the shift in Everett's manner and realizes he must still be married. Well. That hadn't come up in conversation.

“Only technically. We've been separated for almost seven years now.”

“Still,” Masaomi tsks, “Youji is a big fan of fidelity. Oh, Youji, did he not tell you?”

“Can I speak to you alone for a second?” Youji asks, his voice hitting a serene kind of transcendence as he contemplates homicide.

“Not just yet, Youji, although that is a very enticing offer.” Masaomi is somehow lounging so that he's directly in Youji's space, pressing up close and proprietary. Youji undergoes a truly odd combination of fury and arousal that keeps him paralyzed from actually doing anything.

“Maybe later,” Masaomi says into Youji's ear, husky and full of promise, and Youji honestly doesn't know if he's going to punch Masaomi or kiss him.

_Stop it, Youji. You're embarrassing yourself._

Youji stands up abruptly, placing his hands on the table, moving out of Masaomi's grasp. “Everett, I sincerely apologize for my friend's behavior.”

“No need, I believe Michiru actually warned me about him,” Everett says.

 _Oh, did she?_ Youji thinks darkly, with enough fury that he can (unfairly, he'll admit), aim it at Michiru for whatever she might have said about Masaomi.

“I assure you, I was having a very good time on this date, and if you're still willing, I would love to have another one,” Youji says, ignoring Masaomi’s squak of indignance. “I completely understand if you don't want to.”

 “I absolutely want to,” Everett says, smiling only at Youji. “But please, you don't need to rush out just yet. I am sure Masaomi will not be so gauche as to follow us. Kyoto is a lovely place for a stroll.”

“You don't know Masaomi,” Youji says dryly.

But Masaomi doesn't look deterred or abashed at all by his poor behavior. He just hones in on Everett with a familiar predatory gaze and Youji is about three seconds away from dragging Masaomi forcibly away. Youji knows that look. That's the look Masaomi gets right before he destroys someone. If Masaomi was a bomb, Youji would be throwing himself in front of Everett to try and stop the blast.

“Oh, Everett, that was shockingly judgemental of you.”

Youji blinks, because that, all things considered, was much tamer than he was expecting.

Except Everett freezes in a way that would have been unnoticable, except Youji was watching for it.

“You don't even know me,” Masaomi continues. “You wouldn't want to _judge_ me too harshly. Or be accused of being a bad _judge_ of character. That would be unnecessarily _judgy_ , and Youji and I would have to have a serious conversation about what a _judge_ you are.”

“Are you having a stroke?” Youji asks, perplexed, because he has no idea why Masaomi keeps talking like that.

It clearly means something to Everett, though, who leans back in his chair, his whole manner shifting. Now he’s sizing Masaomi up like someone does with an enemy. Youji has seen Masaomi getting these kinds of standoffs with business professionals, and other up-and-coming borderlines psychopaths, and Youji is wondering if he should just leave these two alone to tear each other apart.

“On second thought, we should go talk alone now,” Masaomi says brightly, getting up from his seat.

“That won't be necessary.” Everett says calmly.

“No?” Masaomi challenges, delighted. He's smiling like a man who knows he's won— Youji knows that look too.

“No,” Everett says. And he fixes his gaze on Youji. “What your friend is so inelegantly hinting at is the fact that I'm the Elder of the Libra Legacy-line.”


	6. Chapter 6 ~Then~

“Lieutenant Kobayashi?” Hinami approaches tentatively, a little alarmed to see the normally very upright, distinguished Lieutenant face down on the breakroom table looking like if he had a big enough body of water he would cheerfully drown himself.

Kobayashi waves a tired hand in recognition of Hinami's presence, but doesn't lift up his head.

“Kyouma’s been training the new privates,” Hazashi Hayato says cheerfully. “Apparently there's a troublesome duo of newbies.”

“They’re devils,” Kobayashi says, lifting up his head finally. He has a very haunted expression. “They're demons, send to torment me for my sins.”

“Surely, they can't be that bad,” Hinami protests, who had a low opinion concerning some of the privates in her own rookie year. It had been Kobayashi who told her to have more patience when dealing with poor behavior, because the slackers would either shape up or drop out. “And surely if they're so bad, they won't last long,” she reasons, using his own logic.

“That's just it,” Kobayashi says, still sounding like a man who has seen hell. “They're both some of the most gifted rookies I've seen in a long time.”

“Really?” Hinami says, wondering if she should feel jealous but deciding not.

“They have phenomenal stats,” Kobayashi says, sounding disgusted. “At least in the physical training. They out run, out train everyone else. They're both already highly skilled in combat with impressive stamina and core survival skills. If they were any other people, I'd assume I was looking at future generals.”

“Really?” Hinami says, impressed despite Kobayashi’s dark tones.

“That's not so surprising, at least for Michiru,” Hayato says. “I'd expect nothing else from Colonel Sakurai's daughter.”

“Colonel Sakurai has a daughter?” Hinami exclaims. “And she's here?”

“She has two actually, poor girls. The eldest is Kobayashi’s current headache, the second is threatening to enlist next year. Can you imagine having Colonel Sakurai as your mother?” Hayato explains.

“Are you kidding me? I would love it if Colonel Sakurai with my mother!” Hinami says, and then immediately feels guilty when she thinks about her own mother, who she would not have replaced for the world. “I mean, I admire her a lot, is all. She's half the reason I joined the Special Defense Force. I wanted to be her when I grew up.”

“Sakurai Haruna is a very impressive soldier,” Kobayashi says, “and her daughter could be just as extraordinary as her mother, if she wasn't so... difficult.”

Hinami wonders what word he was going to use, since she strongly suspects ‘difficult’ is a euphemism.

“Aw, lighten up, Kobayashi. Michiru is a good kid,” Hayato says.

Kobayashi looks at him sharply. “Private Sakurai is not a kid. She is a soldier, and she lacks discipline.”

“Personally, I blame Yamazaki. He eggs her on,” Hayato says, not at all rebuked at his best friend’s reprimand.

“What?” Hinami reacts automatically to the name, but then she reminds herself that Yamazaki is a fairly common family name.

“My other problem rookie,” Kobayashi says. “Yamazaki Youji.”

*

“Dare you to jump from one roof to the next.”

“Those roofs? Pft. Dare me to do something challenging.”

“No jumping from roofs,” Hinami says, walking up to the group of rookies.

“Senpai!” Youji says cheerfully, as the other privates start to scatter, except for an insanely pretty woman Hinami doesn't know how to function around.

“Is this _Senpai_?” The woman says delightedly, and Hinami doesn't know if she's impressed or disgusted by the fact that the woman looks like one of those glamour military shots. She's in the same green uniform as everyone else, but her long wavy brown hair cascades around her, flaunting regulation, and looking like she spent hours brushing it surrounded by unicorns and singing fairies. She also, Hinami can't help but notice, has very impressive breasts. Between that and the fact that she's wearing pale pink lipstick Hinami _knows_ is against regulations, the woman really does look more like a model playing military dress-up then an actual soldier.

“Be cool, Michiru,” Youji mutters.

“I'm always cool! But _Senpai_ , I've heard so much about you! And you're barely a B-cup! Youji never mentioned that.”

“What—what do my breasts have to do with anything?” Hinami exclaims, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around her chest.

“Absolutely nothing! At that size,” Michiru flutters her eyelashes at Hinami.

“You’re Colonel Sakurai's daughter?” Hinami exclaims.

“Oh pooh,” Michiru pouts, “how boring. That's exactly what everyone says. I expected something better from Youji's legendary Senpai.”

Hinami grits her teeth and wonders why almost everyone Youji knows is incredibly obnoxious. (Shiori being the only exception. Hinami is still not sure how Youji became friends with someone as awesome as Shiori.) “I assure you, whatever impression Youji gave you of me was most likely inaccurate.”

“Hmmm,” Michiru smiles mischievously.

“We don't need to go into anything I may or may not have said,” Youji rushes in to say.

“Well, I'm so glad to meet you, Senpai,” Michiru says, tossing her hair. “You should date Youji and then maybe Youji will cut ties with that psycho ex-girlfriend of his.”

“I'm not going to date Youji,” Hinami says automatically at the same time Youji says, “What psycho ex-girlfriend?”

Michiru completely ignores Hinami's denial in favor of staring at Youji in disbelief. “Do you have more than the _one_ psycho ex-girlfriend?”

“No. I don't have any, I have no idea who you're talking about,” Youji says, frowning.

“That crazy bitch who calls you five times a day! The one who bought a million porno subscriptions and had them sent to all the generals under your name! The deranged psychotic bitch who has driven three recruits to quit because she keeps mailing everyone photos of decapitated soldiers with red letters written across them saying THIS COULD BE YOU. _That_ psycho ex-girlfriend. Masa-chan!”

 Hinami snorts and inhales and coughs all at the same time, and she covers her mouth to hide her reaction.

Youji looks at her, sort of wryly abashed, and then looks back to Michiru. “Masa-chan isn’t an ex. Or a girlfriend. Or a girl.”

“What?” Michiru says, visibly taken aback.

“He’s my roommate, I guess. Or he was, before I had to move onto base.”

“No, no way,” Michiru says. “No one that hormonal can be a man.”

“ _Wow_ , that was so sexist against women,” Youji says.

“I'm serious!” Michiru says. “Look, I'm Girl Power all the way, but everything you have ever told me about this person just screamed hysterical, possessive, crazy rich bitch.”

Hinami snorts/inhales again and tries once again to unsuccessfully mask the sound.

“That is, uh, not a completely inaccurate description of Masaomi,” Youji allows. “But he has his good qualities.”

“See! See! That! That right there is exactly why I assumed she had to be an ex-girlfriend who did not take the break-up well. You have an apologetic and stupid demeanor when it comes to Masa-chan. I assumed it had to be that same nostalgia men get about people who have sucked their cocks in the past.”

Hinami coughs again.

“Nope, just your garden variety Stockholm Syndrome,” Youji says.

“He’s never once given you a blowjob? Are you sure?”

“Fairly sure I’d remember a blowjob.”

“Then why the fuck do you put up with him?” Michiru explodes, and Hinami decides right then and there that she likes this woman. She suspects that the flirty model persona she first met is a cover up for the explosive fury right here.

“That is a question I've been wondering for as long as I've known those two,” Hinami says dryly. “If you find out the answer, please let me know.”

“I think _you_ would like him, Michiru,” Youji protests weakly. “You're just getting a bad picture of him because he's mad at me right now.”

“You're kidding,” Hinami says, wondering if Masaomi had finally turned on his friend and alarmed for Youji despite herself.

Youji grimaces and shrugs. “Masaomi was... unhappy... about my choice to join the military.”

“Tell her, Youji,” Michiru says, gesturing to Hinami. “Tell her what he said.”

Hinami raises a brow and Youji sighs very loudly. “He said if I was going to waste a college education and sell my body, then I might as well be a prostitute, because at least I’d get better tips when I’m fucked in the ass, whereas the military would just do it for free.”

“Yes, that sounds like him,” Hinami says.

“Doesn't that make you furious?” Michiru exclaims, and Hinami realizes _this_ is what she expected from someone who came from a longstanding military family.

“Believe it or not, I've actually heard him say a lot worse,” Hinami says. Then she adds darkly, “And seen him _do_ a lot worse.”

“Huh,” Michiru says, long and drawn-out. “Yeah, OK. So Youji is just nuts then.”

“Pretty much,” Hinami agrees.

“You're not allowed to gang up on me,” Youji pouts.

“Can I speak to you for a second?” Hinami asks, since she figures this conversation could continue for a long time if she starts detailing Akashi Masaomi’s sins.

“Oh, no need to be so circumspect around me,” Michiru winks broadly, “Whatever secrets you two lovebirds want to hash out, I wouldn't tell a soul.”

“Michiru,” Youji warns.

“Oh _fine_ ,” Michiru says, blowing them each a kiss. “Have fun you two!”

“Odd woman,” Hinami says as she leaves.

“She's nice,” Youji says fondly.

“I'm sure. Youji, what are you _doing_ here?”

Youji shrugs and doesn't look at her when he says, “I graduated. Needed something to do after graduation. Military made as much sense as anything else.”

There's a horrible part of her that wants to ask, _Are you here because of me?_ But that part is absurdly arrogant and ridiculous and she's ashamed of herself for even having the thought.

“And you're fighting with Akashi?”

“He's very dramatic with his emotions,” Youji says breezily. “He'll get over it.”

“Porno magazines to the generals? Really?”

“He's like one of those cats that knocks your dishes off the table,” Youji says, and Hinami rolls her eyes because clearly Youji's relationship with Masaomi hasn't changed. He's just as stupid about the man as he always was.

“Honestly, why do you even put up with him? Even now, when he seems to be--” she’s not sure how to phrase, ‘acting out like a petulant evil child.’ So she rephrases and says, “Why still be his friend if he’s being a jerk? You could leave him behind.”

It sounds awful, when she phrases it like that and she knows it. She’s surprised to find that she wishes Youji would free himself from Masaomi’s hold and influence. But Youji just looks at her, as if deciding whether or not she wants a serious response, and seeing that she does, he says, “I don’t think Masaomi is someone I could ever leave behind. Do you believe souls exist?”

“Souls?” Hinami says, taken aback by the direction of this conversation. “I suppose.”

“I think-- sometimes I think that Masaomi and I have the same kind of soul. And that’s why we met each other. If there’s such a thing as types of souls, or material for souls, then we have the same kind.”

“Are you honestly saying, _I am Heathcliff_ about Akashi Masaomi?” Hinami bursts out, incredulous.

“What?” Youji says. “I have no idea what any of those words meant.”

“You’re _I am Heathcliff-_ ing and you haven’t even read the book?”

“Oh, it’s a book.” Youji makes a face.

“ _Wuthering Heights._ ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’ It’s one of the most famous quotes.”

“It does sound lovely.”

“It’s not a good role model. If you’re following the example of the book, you’ll marry the wrong man and die of heartbreak, and he’ll end up a bitter wife-abuser who everyone hates.”

“That sounds decidedly less lovely. That sounds like a terrible book, in fact. And also, not at all a model I hope to follow, since the only person I plan on marrying is _you,_ Senpai.” Youji smiles cheekily, and Hinami rolls her eyes.

She is actually somewhat glad that he still has that old joke. It makes her feel like they have an inside joke in common, even if they were never friends in college. She decides to leave the topic of Masaomi alone, and switches back to her original topic. “Har har. You know, I wouldn't have pegged you for the military type.”

“No?” Youji says, grinning.

“You're not respectful enough to authority.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Senpai. I am _very_ respectful.”

“You are driving to Lieutenant Kobayashi to an early grave.”

“Oh, Kobayashi. He loves me. He just needs to unwind.”

Hinami shakes her head. “Just go easy on him, OK? He doesn't need this kind of stress right now.” While they aren't exactly friends, she's heard him mention a few things that have led her to believe that he's having marital troubles, and she'd rather he didn't have headaches at work. He's a good man.

“Duly noted,” Youji says, and when she turns to leave he says, “Hey, Senpai?”

She stops and glances back at him, and he has that carefully blank mask he wears at times. “Is it true you're dating Corporal Ichikawa Kenzo?”

Hinami bristles, “It's none of your business if I am.” Fraternization is frowned upon, but not forbidden, since Ichikawa isn't her direct superior.

Youji searches her face and then says, “Does he know about your yaoi reading hobby?”

“No one knows that,” Hinami says threateningly, because _God_ the last thing she needs is Youji telling cutesy stories about her. It's hard enough getting the men to respect her as it is. “And if you breathe a _word_ to anyone—”

“Relax, Senpai, I would never out you,” Youji says pointedly. Then he shrugs. “I'm going out for dinner and drinks with a few friends tomorrow, want to come?”

“No,” Hinami says automatically, getting whiplash from the conversation.

“I'm going to introduce Michiru to Masaomi,” Youji weedles. “It should be hilarious.”

“Definitely not,” Hinami says, because as far as she is concerned, the biggest perk of being in the military is that she doesn't have to see Akashi Masaomi anymore. She’s a tad resentful towards Youji for being here and ensuring that Masaomi is still going to be hanging around.

“Shiori will be there,” Youji says, and she scowls, because she especially resents how well he knows her.

*

“Masaomi, hmm?” Michiru tosses her hair and flutters her eyelashes. Youji has noticed that’s her default when meeting new people. “Are you twenty-two?”

“I am, is that your party trick? Guessing people's ages like one of those carnival clowns?” Masaomi asks, in a croon that is _his_ default, and Youji privately wonders if maybe he shouldn't have introduced these two. He really hopes they don't start sleeping with each other, because that would be a terrible idea on so many levels.

“Masaomi was the most common boy’s name in my little sister's year,” Michiru says. “Everyone wanted to name their kid like the rich Akashi heir, for good luck.”

“Ugh, I _know_ ,” Masaomi says dramatically. “It's the worst. I know five Masaomis and I resent the hell out of it. I always wanted to be named Seijuurou.”

“‘Perfect subjugation?’” Hinami says dryly, figuring out the characters far faster than Youji ever could have.

“It's such a powerful name,” Masaomi says, dreamily. “Damn my parents and their poor taste.” 

“But then everyone would have named their son ‘Seijuurou,’” Shiori points out with a smile.

“True,” Masaomi sighs.

“What?” Michiru stiffens.

“Akashi Masaomi, at your service,” Masaomi says.

“No way,” Michiru says. She whirls on Youji as if she suspects he's trying to prank her.

“You were the one who guessed rich bitch,” Youji says. “I assumed you figured it out.”

“I am the richest of the bitches,” Masaomi agrees.

“And you couldn't do anything better with your money other than send the generals porno magazines?” Michiru demands, deciding relatively easily that all the available information she knows about Masaomi actually makes a lot of sense with this new context. “If I were as rich as you I would buy a private island and do nothing but sunbathe nude while gorgeous people rub oil all over my body and feed me grapes.”

“Been there and bought that island,” Masaomi says promptly, “the oil rubbing gets surprisingly boring after awhile.”

“So you use your vast riches for pranks and petty annoyances?”

“If I can't annoy people with my money then what is even the point of being rich?”

“He also bribes people to break up with their girlfriends,” Hinami interjects, twirling a chopstick like she is debating stabbing Masaomi with it. Youji is very glad he made sure they were seated far away from each other.

“That is _slander_ ,” Masaomi says, and then he grins, “I am not so sexist as that. I will also bribe people to break up with their boyfriends. I'm very equal opportunity that way.”

“How progressive of you,” Hinami says darkly.

Michiru, on the other hand, just smiles and does that thing where she leans in and draws attention to her breasts. Youji can tell she's trying to figure Masaomi out. “Really? How cruel! What's even the point of that?”

(Youji tries hard not to wince at Michiru's fake cutesy voice. It sounds so synthetic he can't believe anyone ever falls for it.)

“It's a litmus test,” Masaomi launches into his standard explanation. “It's the fastest way to test a person's character, or the strength of the relationship.”

“Or the emptiness of their bank accounts,” Hinami growls.

“Tut tut, Kasamatsu. Unlike you, I don't subscribe to the theory that it's impossible for poor people to have integrity.”

“That's not what I meant and you know—” Shiori places a gentling hand on Hinami’s shoulder that also doubles as a restraint, to keep her from jabbing her chopstick into Masaomi’s throat.

“As it happens,” Masaomi continues, “I have noticed that it is not just the poor and misfortunate who take me up on my offer. The dividing line is honor, which point of interest, _Kasamatsu_ , is why I do it. I find it the fastest, easiest way to measure honor, an otherwise abstract concept, and I am quite proud to have discovered the method.”

“Honor,” Michiru says, and even Hinami frowns at this explanation. She has most likely never heard Masaomi explain his reasoning before. While Hinami tries to figure it out, Michiru just pouts, “How cold. Don't you mean love?”

“No,” Masaomi says pointedly, “I don't believe in love. Stop smiling like that, Shiori, I don't appreciate it.”

“It's just a smile Masaomi-san, and even a cat can look at a king,” Shiori says serenely.

“You don't believe in love,” Hinami repeats.

“Does that surprise you?” Masaomi asks.

“Qualify the statement, Masaomi-san,” Shiori interjects before Hinami can respond.

“Fine,” Masaomi rolls his eyes. “I don't believe in romantic love.”

“It exists, whether you believe it or not,” Michiru says, amused.

“No, no, let me explain,” Masaomi says, rallying. “Two people are able to commit to one another, through a bond formed of mutual respect and possibly attraction. But it's a commitment just like any other contract. All that storybook crap—soulmates, flowers, Prince Charming and fair damsels in distress—that's the nonsense people lie to each other about. It's ritualistic playacting, and I abhor it, as I abhor any pretense.”

“Hmm,” Michiru says. There is an interested gleam in her eyes, and it makes Youji nervous. All three women’s reactions are rather fascinating; Shiori continues to look amused, Hinami is still frowning, but not in an angry sort of way. And Michiru has something up her sleeve, but Youji isn't sure what.

“You're wrong,” Michiru pronounces.

“I assure you, I am never wrong.” Masaomi says with a smile.

“You don't believe people can be sincerely in love with each other. But I've seen it. My sister and her husband are suuuuuuper cute together. They make me believe in soulmates.”

“I give it ten years before their divorce,” Masaomi says.

“Oh, you,” Michiru says, bapping Masaomi on the arm. “I don't believe you mean it either. I don't believe you're as callous as you pretend to be.”

“And I don't believe you're as vapid and airheaded as _you_ pretend to be, but here we are,” Masaomi returns, and Michiru actually laughs and leans back.

“Well, alright then, you caught me,” Michiru says, winking at Youji. “Whatever makes you say that?”

“Youji wouldn't like you if you were,” Masaomi replies.

“Really?” Michiru draws out. “And while we're on _that_ subject, just what exactly is your relationship with Youji? Because you act like a possessive ex who lost the breakup.”

“I never lose anything. Especially not my breakups,” Masaomi replies.

“See? You're being evasive. And you—” she points a finger at Shiori, who only smiles at her, “I don't have you figured out at all. Are you two dating?” She waggles her finger back and forth accusatorily at Shiori and Masaomi.

“Decidedly not,” Shiori says, at the same time Masaomi replies, “Not yet.”

“Hmm,” Michiru says again.

“But if you happen to figure out Masaomi-san and Youji-san, please let me know,” Shiori says. “It's something Hinami-senpai and I have wondered about for quite some time.”

“Is that right?” Michiru says, but her sidelong glance is aimed at Hinami.

“I've given up trying to understand either of them,” Hinami says.

“How mysterious. Whatever they did at your university has certainly created a bunch of interesting folks,” Michiru says. She doesn't smile like an outsider though, and Youji suspect she will fit right in.

*

Hinami leaves first, which is not a surprise, because she always had something else to do. Michiru spotted a strapping young man she decided “looked perfect for a sensuous one night stand” and left with him, leaving Youji alone with Masaomi and Shiori. He is genuinely glad for this moment, because it feels like forever since he seen either of them, even if he talks to Masaomi everyday and exchanges letters with Shiori.

“So are you quitting yet?” Masaomi says almost immediately, and Youji internally groans. 

“I told you. I like the military.”

“No, you don't. You're just obsessed with Kasamatsu Hinami. Shiori, you reason with him.”

“I will not,” Shiori says firmly. “I refuse to take sides in this squabble, as well you know.”

“You are being almost equally as frustrating,” Masaomi says. “I never would have thought _you_ to be one of those abominably prideful poor folk.”

“I will not allow such criticism from you, Masaomi-san.You know what it is like to be proud of your work.”

“Oh, fine,” Masaomi sulks, and Youji privately marvels. He knows, because he and Shiori are pen pals, that Shiori is trying to make it in the manga publishing industry. And while she has had modest success with doujinshi, she is having trouble getting her original work accepted anywhere. Masaomi—because Masaomi cares about his friends—wants to use his connections (or at least, buy some connections) to get her work noticed, but Shiori refuses.

The most fascinating thing about this exchange is the fact that Shiori knows exactly the right thing to say to get Masaomi to understand her point of view. Youji wonders if she's aware of how an incredibly rare that is. He also wonders if Masaomi realizes just how often he “loses” to Shiori—or if that's something that even bothers him.

Not for the first time, he wishes they would get together. He thinks they would be good for each other. But he's not going to meddle.

“Youji, on the other hand, is just going to get himself killed because he's an idiot,” Masaomi says, turning his wrath back to Youji. “Why can't you get a nice safe career like illustrating porn?”

“You're such a doting mother, Masa-chan,” Youji says, feeling warm with his own fondness for his eccentric friend.

“I heard she has a boyfriend now,” Masaomi tosses back, abruptly killing that fond feeling with a reminder that jabs like a stiletto in the ribs.

“Yes, Ichikawa.”

He is very careful to sound as neutral as possible, so he has no idea why Shiori turns to him in surprise and says, “You don't like him.”

(“That woman is a witch,” Masaomi said to him once, while mildly drunk. “I suspect she reads minds.” There are times when Youji wonders if drunk-Masaomi was onto something.)

“Would you like the man who was fucking the woman you love?” Masaomi returns before Youji can reply, more to seize the opportunity for another dig at Youji, although Youji appreciates the chance to recuperate.

“Actually, I am sure that I would,” Shiori replies calmly, “provided he was a man worth liking.”

“God,” Masaomi snorts, “I actually believe it, coming from you. But most people are not nearly so rational with their jealousies.”

“Do _you_ like him?” Youji asks Shiori, because he trusts her perception and judgment.

Shiori frowns. “I am largely neutral. I have only met him a couple of times, and I have seen nothing that I dislike about him. He makes Hinami-senpai happy. And he really loves her, so I'm inclined to like him.”

“Wow, Shiori, twist the knife some more, why don't you?” Masaomi says.

“Masaomi-san, you cannot use Hinami-senpai's relationship as a tactic to hurt Youji-san in one moment and then defend his feelings on the reality of the situation in the next,” Shiori says, exasperated.

“Yes, I can. I'm very mercurial,” Masaomi shoots back.

“Stop derailing the issue,” Shiori admonishes. “I am much more fascinated by the fact that Youji-san does not like him.”

Because Shiori is the one who says it (Youji is sure Masaomi would not have found his not liking Ichikawa to be nearly so fascinating if it was not Shiori who was drawing attention to it), Masaomi glances back at Youji, arching a brow.

“I am fairly certain I would not like anyone who was dating Senpai,” Youji says. “But if he makes her happy, then I hope it all matters he is worth her good opinion.”

It is now Shiori who raises a brow. “You are very much like an Austen hero sometimes, Youji-san.”

“To Marianne, I wish all possible happiness, to Willoughby, may he endeavor to deserve her,” Masaomi quotes off the fly, and Youji rolls his eyes because there's no winning when they use books against him.

(Also, he wonders if Shiori knows Masaomi read all of Jane Austen's novels because she said she liked the books. He wonders if Masaomi knows how much that reveals him to be a man in love. He really wonders why these two just don't get together already.)

“All right, I will let you equivocate, because I too must depart,” Shiori says. “But I hope to see you again, Youji-san.”

Youji offers his own goodbyes and is only moderately surprised when Masaomi doesn't leave with Shiori.

“If you're just going to nag at me again, I'm going home,” Youji announces.

“I miss you,” Masaomi says softly, and that just isn't _fair_.

“I miss you too,” Youji says, because he had to move on base for training, and he had liked living with Masaomi. It was the first place that ever felt like home to him. He clears his throat, casually backing out of the charged moment. “But you have to stop being such a dick.”

But Masaomi doesn't stop looking at him with that intense gravity. “You make me hate to care about anyone,” Masaomi says, his voice hoarse. “Youji, if this is what it means to love someone, I can't bear it. You're tearing out your heart and I can't stand to see you bleed.”

It isn't fair—Youji doesn't know how to react in this situation. Not for the first time, he wishes you could platonically kiss someone, because that's what he wants to do. He wants to kiss the inside of Masaomi's palm and thank him for loving him.

No one ever has loved him before. And sometimes he thinks the problem between them is that Masaomi is not someone who loves and Youji is not someone who is loved, and between the two of them, they're not sure what they're supposed to do. Youji thinks if he did kiss the inside of Masaomi's palm, Masaomi would not mind, not like most heterosexual friends would. But he doesn't do it, because slowly he's learning to live outside a world that is so dominated by Masaomi.

“I need you,” Youji says, which is perhaps not the normal thing for friends to say to one another, but he has to be honest. “I can't do this without you, Masa-chan.”

Masaomi shakes his head. “You don't fight fair, Youji.”

But then he sighs, and some of the electricity dies down, and they're just two friends, drinking beer.

*

Truthfully, Youji doesn't know why he joined the military. It would have been the very last thing he expected to do, because it's too much like the life he had as a child.

He _doesn't_ think it's all because of Hinami. Or at least, Hinami isn't the reason he stays. It's not a surprise that he's good at this, but what keeps it from becoming too much like his past is the fact that he genuinely respect the people he works with. Moreover, he likes them.

The next year, Michiru's little sister joins their ranks, and Youji’s modest circle of friends begins to grow. Imayoshi Setsuna is absolutely nothing like her sister, and he would almost suspect them as pulling an elaborate prank on them but they both repeatedly assured him that they “both sprang forth from the same vagina.”

Setsuna has long black hair, and a foxlike face. In fact, he's never met a woman before who seems so much like she could be a _kitsune_ in disguise. She is quieter and calmer than her older sister, more serious and polite.

Her husband, Shigure, who is scandalously ten years older than her, is a quiet, intellectual sort of man that Youji is also inclined to like. Youji has never quite gotten along well with the intellectual types (memories of Hinami's college boyfriend spring to mind) but Shigure is so unobtrusive, it's hard to bear him any ill-will.

It's only after the incident with Masaomi that Youji realizes he has never met the real Setsuna.

When Masaomi meets Setsuna, she spends the entire time talking about her husband, a thing that always annoys Masaomi.

“Your sister did say you were stupidly in love,” Masaomi says.

“True story,” Michiru says.

“Michiru-nee told _me_ that you bribed people to break up with their boyfriends,” Setsuna says. “So she is an unreliable source of information.”

“You malign me!”  Michiru says hotly.

“Indeed, you're being quite unfair to your Onee-san,” Masaomi says. “For I absolutely do that.”

“No,” Setsuna says, wide-eyed. “I don't believe you. I don't believe anyone could be so horrible.”

“Oh, I think it's fair to assume I am that horrible in most circumstances,” Masaomi says. “So how much would it take for you to divorce your husband?”

“Masaomi,” Youji warns, because there are things that should not be done to friends.

“Never,” Setsuna says, laughing. “I absolutely never could.”

“I'm serious,” Masaomi says. “Five million yen is my standard offer.”

“That is such a small amount to ruin your life for,” Setsuna remarks. “Is that really something people do?”

“That's more than your annual salary,” Masaomi points out. “All right. What about fifty million?”

Setsuna smiles. “Now you're just making fun of me. You would never actually pay someone that much.”

“Masaomi,” Youji says again, because he knows how much that statement is for Masaomi what a red flag in front of a bull would be.

“I absolutely would,” Masaomi says, taking out his checkbook. “I'll write it right now. There's an ATM machine right over there, conveniently next to a pay phone. Divorce your husband, tell him the news right now, and I'll pay you fifty million yen.”

“You're not serious?” Setsuna says.

At this point, Youji would have been inclined to forcibly yank Masaomi away before he ruined a marriage, but he notices that Michiru isn't saying anything, and for that reason alone, he keeps quiet.

“I am always serious,” Masaomi says.

“Well,” Setsuna says, sounding doubtful. Her eyes drop to the checkbook and then,  rushing in, as if to outrun changing her mind she says, “Then I'll do it.”

*

Youji is not entirely sure what he expected to happen from the whole ordeal. In a couple of weeks, Michiru announces that her sister is divorced and has moved out of her house, and he's in the awkward position of trying to comfort Imayoshi Shigure.

“I am bereft,” he says, having intruded onto the base to cry on Michiru's shoulder.

Except Masaomi is also visiting and Youji has never seen him look so awkward. Youji isn't sure Shigure knows who Masaomi is, but Masaomi keeps tugging on Youji's sleeve to make a discreet exit, and Youji keeps ignoring him. Let Masaomi see the aftermath of his destruction for once.

“Forget her,” Hinami says, who is glaring at Masaomi like she’s wishing to cause bodily harm later. “Anyone who would do such a thing is not worth your love.”

“But she was!” Shigure wails. “She was so perfect. The only one for me. I will never love again.”

“There there,” Youji says awkwardly patting Shigure on the shoulder.

But then Setsuna walks into the room. “Oh good, you're all here. Stop sniveling, Shigure. It is unbecoming.”

“I am a broken man,” Shigure announces, looking at his ex-wife with a hurt pout.

 “Good, that's just how I like my men,” Setsuna says. And then she bends down on one knee in front of Shigure and opens a box, revealing a gold ring. “Imayoshi Shigure, will you marry me? Again?”

“You broke my heart,” Shigure says stiffly. “Give me one reason why I should.”

“Because I am super rich now,” Setsuna says.

“Oh. Well in that case, sure. Let's get hitched again.” And then he sweeps her up into a passionate (and very embarrassing for various onlookers to witness) kiss that stuns most of the viewers.

“Wait. Wait. Did you _plan_ this?” Masaomi yells.

Setsuna breaks the kiss and holds onto Shigure’s tie as she leans back to look at Masaomi. “You're damn right we did.”

“Nuh uh, no way,” Masaomi says, “that doesn't count—”

“Oh, it _so_ counts,” Setsuna says. “You said, direct quote here, ‘divorce your husband and I'll pay you fifty million yen.’ I divorced my husband.”

“She did, it's legal, we have the paperwork and everything,” Shigure puts in.

“You didn't say anything about _staying_ divorced,” Setsuna says triumphantly.

“You called him that night,” Masaomi says, “when I first made the offer. When did you have time to plan?”

“Oh ho ho,” Michiru titters. “We had a long con going. Ever since you said this was a thing you did, I have been setting the stage.”

“My Onee-san is the best,” Setsuna says.

“All I ask in return is to be there when you explain this to Mother,” Michiru says evilly. “She is going to flip her shit. Man, I can’t believe how well that worked. I was super worried that Youji was going to blow this for us.”

Everyone whirls on Youji.

“You _knew_?” Masaomi demands.

“I suspected when Michiru didn't intervene,” Youji admits. “Although, I was beginning to think I had it wrong. You’re rather convincing, Shigure-san.”

“Thank you,” Shigure says modestly. “I dabbled in the Theater Club in high school.”

“You divorced your husband for _money_?” Hinami bursts out, so scandalized she can't contain it anymore. “You have a _daughter_. How are you going to explain this to Sayuri-chan?”

“I'm going to tell her to find a love that will help her scam a billionaire out of his money and not settle for anything else,” Setsuna tosses back. “That's what love _is_.”

All further explanations are forestalled by the sound of laughing. Everyone turns to look at Masaomi, who is laughing so hard he has to clutch onto Youji's arm in order to keep himself upright.

*

“The is weirdest wedding I have ever been to,” Hinami says. Youji is trying not to look at her because it's the first time he's ever seen her in a dress, (a long blue evening gown) or with her hair pinned up, and he’s sure he'll be an idiot if he looks at her too much.

“I thought it was beautiful,” Shiori remarks.

Apparently, the main thing Shigure and Setsuna wanted to do with their ill-gotten gains was to hold a gigantic wedding. The bride and groom are both dressed in traditional Japanese wedding robes that must have cost a small fortune, as did most of the wedding venue.

“I must admit, I'm not sure I see the point in putting this much effort in a second wedding,” Youji says.

“It's because they never had a first wedding,” Michiru explains. She's wearing a low-cut brand name gown that she explained was a “finder's fee” for helping her sister con Masaomi. “They eloped the first time, so it was a small thing. Only I got to be at both weddings.”

“That is nice,” Ichikawa Kenzo says, a tad doubtful. “I'm not entirely sure I approve taking your marriage vows so lightly, but it's a nice sentiment.”

“They don't take their marriage vows lightly,” Michiru says, leaning forward.

“I just don't think I could divorce someone I made an everlasting promise to,”  Ichikawa says. “Even if I was planning to remarry her later.”

“The vow is paper,” Michiru waves this aside. “The commitment is what's important. Do you know how those two got together? He was a student teacher at her high school.”

“That's—” Hinami bursts out, but then bites her tongue, realizing how rude her statement would sound while she was currently at the couple's wedding.

“ _Very_ scandalous, I know,” Michiru says. “They swear up and down nothing inappropriate happened while she was underage, and I believe them. But as soon as she graduated, he proposed and asked for our mom's permission to marry her.

“Which she said no to, of course. And punched him in the face. She forbade Setsuna from ever seeing him again.

“So Setsuna came up with her own plan, which was to get knocked up,” Michiru continues the story cheerily. “My little sister believes in extremes. It's how I knew they would be on board for scamming _you_ , Masaomi.”

Masaomi just smirks. “If that's the standard, then for sure. Divorcing is much easier than producing a baby.”

“Yes, about that,” Ichikawa says, “I’m still very confused.You're the one who initiated this deal?” He asks Masaomi, who grins delightedly.

“That I did.”

“You— _pay_ people to break up with their significant others?”

“That's an oversimplification, but yes.”

“Good lord, _why_?” Ichikawa looks genuinely distressed. “Do you hate love? Did someone break your heart?”

Masaomi cackles and says, “Oh Kasamatsu, have you not told him?”

Hinami rolls her eyes and looks at her boyfriend. “Akashi is the devil. He just likes chaos, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a heart.”

She doesn't say this with the usual vehemence, so Youji thinks Masaomi must be slowly growing on her.

“And that worked?” Youji asks Michiru, getting back to the story.

“Hell no, it just pissed off Mom even more,” Michiru says. “Not to mention several military ‘uncles.’” Michiru's face grows serious as she continues the story, “So one day, a bunch of our honorary uncles came and beat Shigure up. You've seen him—he's a stick. He can’t throw a punch to save his life.”

“I'm not saying I approve,” Ichikawa says, “but then, if someone knocked up a teenage girl I cared about, I'm not sure I wouldn't do the same.”

“Yeah,” Hinami says, frowning. “I wouldn't gang up on him, but I am kind of conflicted about this.”

Michiru shrugs. “Maybe, but it didn't matter, he couldn't fight back. He just let them beat him up. And then, when they were done, he arrived broken and bleeding at Setsuna’s door and proposed all over again. That's when they eloped. And it sets a pretty high bar for love, in my mind. I don't need someone who will fight for me, I want someone who will break and bleed and stay with me.”

“Hmm,” Masaomi says, as everyone at the table falls silent, and contemplates this. “That's a pretty tall order.”

“Indeed,” Michiru says, winking and tossing back a beer. “That's why I'll never marry and I'll just set spend my time in hedonistic pleasure.”

“I'll drink to that,” Masaomi says, clinking Michiru's glass.

*

“And how is the man who made all this possible?” Setsuna asks Masaomi when the happy couple makes their rounds to their table.

“Doing quite well. Damn fine second wedding—best I've ever been to,” Masaomi says cheerfully. “Here, I brought you a wedding present.”

He hands Setsuna an envelope and motions for her to open it. She says, “You shouldn't have, you already paid—holy shit this is a fuckton of money.”

Shigure’s eyes widen as he looks over Setsuna shoulder, and and she stares dumbfounded at Masaomi.

“In all the years I've been bribing people to break up with their significant others, not a single one of them ever thought to con me,” Masaomi says. “I usually just get punched in the face.”

“Shigure, Shigure, quick, go deposit this before he changes his mind,” Setsuna says, pushing her husband who is already searching for his keys.

Masaomi laughs. “That's what I thought you'd say. That's why that check is purely decorative. I've already wired the money into your bank account. Enjoy the rest of your wedding.”

“This is buy a house money,” Setsuna explains. “This is _two_ houses! Michiru, I could buy you a house! You want to live next door?”

“Sure,” Michiru says, inclining her head to look at the check and then raised her eyebrows and whistles. “Yeah. I'm going to insist you buy me a house.”

“We scammed you and you're giving us _more_ money?” Shigure asks.

“Shigure!” Setsuna hisses.

Masaomi just smiles. “You genuinely made me believe in love. I hope one day I'll marry someone who helps me run scams on billionaires.”

“Not everyone can be so lucky,” Shigure says, smiling fondly at his wife.

“Now,” Masaomi says, getting to his feet and interrupting the romantic moment, “I'm going to insist on a dance with the bride. And then later I'll insist on a dance with the groom,” Masaomi leers in Shigure’s direction.

Shigure just waggles his eyebrows, “I look forward to it. Michiru? Will you do me the honor?”

“Oh, sure, you'll do as a starter,”  Michiru says, tossing back her remaining beer and getting up.

“That was... surprising of Akashi,” Hinami says.

“I told you,” Youji says.

“He still bribes people to divorce their spouses,” Ichikawa says. “Strange man. Kasamatsu-san, would you like to dance?”

“Oh,” Hinami says, blushing, and Youji looks away. “Yes. I'm not very good, though.”

“Neither am I, we can be very awkward together.”

As they get up to leave, Youji turns to Shiori. “Well?”

Shiori smiles, “Because we're the only ones left?”

“Because there's no one else I would rather dance with more,” Youji says instantly.

“Such a smooth talker,” Shiori says. “But all right. Why not.”

*

It does not surprise him but Shiori is a very elegant dancer—like someone who must have had professional lessons at some point.

“I am not surprised you dance well, Youji-san,” Shiori says, dimpling with her smile as she eerily echoes his thoughts. “Although, Masaomi-san did say so. You really could have made a career out of it.”

Youji laughs. “You should see me on a pole.”

Shiori's laughter fills the air like a delicate perfume. “I'd be delighted to.”

“I meant to tell you earlier, but you look very beautiful tonight,” Youji says, enjoying the fact that he can compliment Shiori without there being anything complicated behind the remark, (and briefly wishing he could do the same with Hinami, who also looks very beautiful tonight.) “Is that a new dress?”

“It is,” Shiori says, pleased. “It was a gift from Masaomi-san.”

“ _Really_?” Youji says wickedly. “Well. You know what they say about why men buy women dresses.”

Shiori just cocks a brow and says, “That's a nice suit, Youji-san, is it new?”

Youji laughs again and he lets himself bask in the joy he finds in Shiori's company. She's peaceful—he'd said that to Masaomi years ago, and he didn't think Masaomi understood just what that meant to Youji.

“All right, touché. But I wouldn't exactly call the suit a _gift,_ in my case. Masa-chan just threw a credit card at me and told me to ‘buy something respectable so as not to shame me in mixed company.’ It's not exactly the same thing, although I see your point and I'll stop my blatant matchmaking.”

“You do it so inelegantly, it really is best to leave it to the professionals.”

Youji just grins at her and thinks about how much she sounds like Masaomi with that statement.

“Stop it,” Shiori says, once again reading his mind.

“I said nothing,” Youji protests innocently.

Shiori just shakes her head, but then her smile falls. “Youji-san, why don't you like Ichikawa-san?”

All the good feelings that had been building in this dance evaporate abruptly, and the tension he had been suppressing all evening returns to the forefront.

“Are you being cruel, Shiori?” Youji asks, keeping his voice light.

“I hope I am not,” Shiori returns, her voice even.

“He is dating the woman I love.”

Shiori searches his face. “Youji-san, she is my friend. I care about her very much.”

“I know.”

“I want what is best for her.”

“So do I,” Youji replies honestly.

“So if you know something about Ichikawa-san that concerns you, then you should tell me, as someone who also cares about Hinami-senpai.”

_A witch_ , Youji thinks. More and more, Youji begins to understand why she is so fascinating to Masaomi.

“She's in love with him, Shi-chan,” Youji says quietly.

“Yes,” Shiori says, in a voice that somehow manages to not be pitying. “I know.”

Youji sighs and shakes his head, “Truly, I know nothing. I have no reason to dislike him.”

“Youji-san—”

“I am telling you the truth, Shi-chan. Yes, I dislike him. But not for anything in particular—not for anything that might bother other people. He reminds me of a man I once knew and hated very much, but that's not his fault. And I can't say for sure I would find so much to dislike if he was not dating the woman I loved. Or if he would bother anyone else who wasn’t _me_ because I have those built in prejudices. I don’t know if I should dislike him or not but he _is_ dating the woman I love and I can’t be sure. That's all there is to it, Shi-chan. And you _are_ being very cruel.”

Shiori does not take the reprimand. She only processes what he told her. “You do not trust your intuition because you are aware of your own biases. That is very wise, Youji-san. But I do not think that means you are wrong.”

Youji pauses because that is a neat summary of what he has been dealing with, only it is not something he could have expressed so clearly.

“Masaomi-san and Hinami-senpai are logical people. They like facts, and they both act after all facts and evidence points to a logical conclusion. I have tremendous amount of respect for both of them, but I also respect _you_ for your intuition. You act on your feelings and instincts and I am not one to discount that.”

The song comes to an end, and for a second they just stand there, not letting each other go. But then Youji wryly smiles and steps away. “I would trust your instincts over mine, Shi-chan.” It's the main reason why he thinks he must be wrong about Ichikawa. If _Shiori_ does not mind him, then he's probably a good man. Shiori sees through the heart of everyone, so Youji must be wrong.

“Really? Then we're at a strange impasse. All my instincts are telling me to trust yours.” Shiori leans up and kisses him on the cheek. “Have a little more faith in yourself, Youji-san.”

*

It's hard not to look at Youji and Shiori as they dance—Hinami is not the only one who stares in wonder and envy. Most everyone here shuffles back and forth in that way that isn't dancing so much as swaying, but Youji and Shiori both look like _dancers_. Elegant and beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale.

_They look good together_ , Hinami realizes with a start. It had never really occurred to her before, but Shiori and Youji would make a good couple.

It wasn't something she _would_ have thought before, she allows. Because before, she  assumed Youji was evil, like Masaomi, and she would not have wanted him near her friend. She's not sure how she feels about it now.

“They look like professionals,” Ichikawa says, causing Hinami to startle and then feel guilty, like she’d been caught staring.

“Yes, I'm surprised,” she says, but then she's not entirely sure what she meant by that.

“Is he an old friend of yours? I gather you went to college together.”

“We were never really friends,” she replies, because it's the truth, but she feel guilty about saying it anyway.

The song comes to an end, and Hinami is glad. She hopes they don't have to talk about Youji anymore.

“Can I have the next dance?” a new voice asks, coming up from behind.

Hinami snorts before she can stop herself. “No. I thought you were going to dance with the groom?”

Masaomi grins. “Next one—Setsuna reclaimed her man. Possessive little thing.”

It somehow does not surprise Hinami that Masaomi is already on a first-name basis with the bride. But then again, apparently he just gave her enough money to buy two houses.

“All right,” Hinami tosses out. “Why the hell not. Let's dance.”

Masaomi raises his brows, clearly surprised by her acceptance, but he just grins and says, “That's the rousing enthusiasm a man likes to hear.”

She moderately expects the dance to be all awkward silences—and she is very stiff, uncomfortable to be as close to someone she still dislikes so much—but the conversation flows easily enough.

“That was a nice thing you did for them,” Hinami says. It's the reason she agreed to dance with him.

“Surprised?”

“A little.”

“I know you think I'm incapable of kindness,” Masaomi says, a tad condescendingly.

“No, that wasn't it. I'm not surprised you can be kind. I was surprised you could be genuine.”

He tilts his head, and she can tell she's surprised him again.

“You like the fact that they are in love. Do you really not believe that love is possible?”

“Are you trying to psychoanalyze me, Kasamatsu?” Masaomi says, amused. “Still trying to find my tragic backstory?”

“Frankly, I don't care if you _do_ have a tragic backstory,” Hinami replies. “Lots of people do. They don't all turn out to be like you.”

Masaomi laughs and then twirls her in the dance with more grace than she expected.

“You're right about that,” Masaomi allows, when they're facing each other again. “So I'll answer your question. It's not that I don't believe love is possible, I just don't think it happens as frequently as people think it does. And I am deeply skeptical about love as being the inherent good everyone tries to make it out to be. I think love, like most things, is very dangerous in excess.”

“Hmm,” Hinami mulls this over. Her automatic response is to think that there is no such thing as an excess of love, but she knows better. Although she’s not so ready to accept Masaomi’s declaration, either. As she looks away, her gaze falls on Youji, who is now dancing with the Imayoshis’ three year old daughter. He’s laughing as he lets her stand on his feet, and Hinami finds herself unexpectedly warmed at the sight of Youji’s attention to the child. Not too many people would have taken the time to entertain a toddler.

“Do you love him?” Masaomi asks, causing her to startle. When she looks back to him he says, “Your boyfriend.”

Her attention returns fully to the man who is still her opponent in so many ways and she says, “That's none of your business.”

“Of course it's not, I'm being nosey and rude.”

She snorts instead of laughs. She doesn't want to find him charming, because so many people do. “Do you love anyone? Not just romantically, but at all?”

“If you don't know the answer to that by now, I'm not going to tell you,” Masaomi replies, and he says it like a school teacher admonishing an obtuse child.

As the dance comes to an end, Hinami pulls away, once again feeling disappointed and oddly thwarted. She keeps thinking maybe someday she'll understand Masaomi, but she's fairly certain she never will.

“Am I the reason you don't love Youji?”

Hinami stops in her tracks. The question would make her angry except he asked it so earnestly. Quiet, and rushed—like he was doing something brave. And she has such a hard time accepting that he needed to summon the courage to ask the question.

“Youji isn't in love with me,” Hinami says.

“Don't be stupid, Kasamatsu.”

The question and his response make her feel too many things—confused, angry, resentful, and also something she doesn't quite know how to name. There are too many things she wants to say but in the end, all she says, carefully as she can, is, “I don't have to justify who I love and who I don't love to you, Akashi.”

“True,” Masaomi tosses that out there, like it means nothing to him. But he looks at her like she is pieces of a puzzle he doesn't know how to put together.  “Sometimes I think you must be very stupid. And other times I think you are very cruel. One of those two things seems to be the only way to make sense of you.”

“I don't understand you either, so I guess that makes us even,” Hinami says, wanting all of the sudden to get away from him.

“Yes, I suppose that's right,” Masaomi says, and then moves towards Shiori, leaving Hinami to flee back to the comforting sanity of her boyfriend.

*

“This is... sudden,” Hinami says, looking at the diamond ring in her hands and feeling nothing but shock.

“We've been dating for almost a year and a half now,” Ichikawa gently reminds her. He doesn't look nonplussed by the fact that she isn't immediately collapsing in raptures of joy at his proposal, and she appreciates that.

“We don't need to rush into anything,” Ichikawa says. “Actually, what I really want is for you to move in with me. But I also wanted to let you know that my intentions are honorable.”

“I know that,” Hinami says, amusement finally leaking through her numb surprise. Ichikawa Kenzo would never take advantage of a woman. It's one of the things she likes best about him.

“So think about both offers. If you're not ready to be engaged, then at least think about moving in. And if you would like to get married, we can have a long engagement if you prefer. I'm perfectly willing to work with any timeline you're comfortable with.”

“Thank you,” Hinami says, feeling in that moment that she should just say yes—she loves this man, and she wants to spend the rest of her life with him. She has no reason to not say yes right now.

But instead, she just promises to give a response to him as quickly as she can.

*

“He proposed?” Shiori says, clearly shocked.

“Nice rock,” Michiru says, eyeing the ring before Hinami can quickly tuck it away.

“Congrats!” Setsuna says. “I'll buy champagne.”

“I haven't said yes yet,” Hinami protests.

“I'll buy champagne anyway,” Setsuna says with a shrug and flags down the waiter.

This is new for Hinami. Hanging out with girls. And all three of them—Shiori, Setsuna and Michiru—are so beautiful and put together that it makes Hinami feeling even more out of place. But she wanted Shiori's opinion, and somehow that turned out to be a Girl's Night Out (with everything that the capital letters implied) and Hinami feels slightly panicky over Ichikawa’s proposal.

“Are you? Going to say yes?” Michiru asks, her eyes fixing on Hinami in a slightly disconcerting way. Hinami is not sure why, but she feels like Michiru's attention is a dangerous thing.

“I love him,” Hinami says, “so yes, I think so.”

“You don't sound sure,” Setsuna says, honing in on Hinami.

Hinami squirms, not liking the way all these beautiful women are looking at her. “I'm only twenty-five.”

“I was eighteen when I married Shigure the first time,” Setsuna says, “And twenty-two when I married him the second time.”

“Yes, but, I just hadn't—all my plans for the future are around my career. I'm not sure how a family fits into that,” Hinami says. She looks back to Shiori, because Shiori hasn't said anything, and Hinami is desperate for her counsel.

“ _Do_ you love him?” Shiori asks.

“Yes,” Hinami says, surprised by the question. “You like Ichikawa, don't you, Shiori?” Shiori always gave her the impression that she liked Ichikawa, and Hinami depends on her judgment. “He's not... not like Sanada, right?”

She wonders then if Shiori had offered to sleep with Ichikawa, as her own litmus test into someone’s character. But Shiori shakes her head, “No, I don't think so. He always struck me as someone who would be faithful.”

“Oh, good,” Hinami says, her own relief stronger than she was expecting.

“I don't like him,” Michiru declares, and Hinami shoots her an annoyed look.

“You don't?” Setsuna says, turning to her sister in surprise. “Why? I like him. He's one of the only men who respects the female rookies. “

Hinami feels a surge of warmth at this assessment but Michiru just shrugs. “Don't know. Just don't. There's something about him I don't like.”

“You're just saying that because You—because you're contrary,” Setsuna says.

“No, I'm not!” Michiru says hotly. “He just—has a feel about him that I don't trust. Call it women's intuition.”

“You're the only woman at this table who has this feeling,” Setsuna says.

“My intuition is clearly so much more refined than all of yours,” Michiru says loftily.

It would irritate Hinami more, except Shiori still hasn't said anything, and she very much wants to know what Shiori is thinking.

“What is the matter, Senpai?” Shiori smiles at her, and it's not what Hinami wants, Hinami doesn't want to talk about what she's thinking.

“I wish my mother was still alive,” Hinami blurts out, and maybe she's had too much to drink. Everyone stares at her and she can't stand the expressions on their faces. “I wish I could ask her how you know when to marry a man.”

“Never,” Michiru says promptly. “No man is ever worth it. Marriage only traps the woman.”

“Says the _single_ person,” Setsuna jabs in. “If you have any doubts at all, you shouldn't marry him, Senpai. Every fiber of your being should long to be with him. The very deepest of love should be why you marry. No other reason is acceptable.”

Hinami frowns, even more unhappy and unsure of herself.

“No,” Shiori says quietly. “Love is not a good reason to marry.”

Everyone turns to her.

“She is also single, and should not be listened to,” Setsuna declares. 

“No, no, I want to hear more about this,” Michiru says, amused. “ _Love_ isn't a good reason to get married?”

“I have known too many people in love,” Shiori says, still smiling. “Sometimes it lasts, and sometimes it doesn't. But it is too unpredictable and volatile of an emotion, to use as a reason to bind yourself forever to another person.”

“Then what, pray tell, is a good reason to marry?” Setsuna demands.

“If my life would be better with someone than it would be without, then I would marry that person,” Shiori replies, calmly. “But no other reason would induce me to marriage.”

Hinami looks down at the ring on her finger and she momentarily wishes Ichikawa hadn't proposed. Then she wouldn't be in this position, wondering what she is supposed to do.

*

She doesn't wear the ring on base—the stone is too big, it would catch on things. It's not a practical sort of ring for the kind of physical activity of a soldier's life, and it's not really to her taste anyway. She finds herself irritated by how much the ring isn't to her taste and then feels like this is probably some sort of sign.

Shiori would say it was a sign. Except Shiori _hadn't_ said anything, beyond her own marriage reasons.

The problem is, Hinami doesn't think _any_ of their advice suits her. Setsuna forbade marriage if there were any doubts, and Hinami is sure she would have doubts with anyone. Michiru said men were not worth it, but Hinami feel certain her mother would not have said so about her father.

Shiori said love wasn't enough. Only if she was better with them than without. But Hinami has lived _without_ for so long—ever since her parents died she had to live on her own, without people who loved her. She feels certain she could keep doing that, no matter what. With Ichikawa, without Ichikawa, her life would be the same. She is sure that would be true for anyone.

She is so lost in thought that she literally runs into Youji while rounding a corner.

“Oomph. Oh, Senpai!” Youji beams at her, his smile wide and infectious.

“Have you been fighting?” Hinami asks instantly, fixating on the bruise on Youji’s cheek. She lifts her hand as if to touch his face, but he pulls back, like he's afraid of being burned and her hand freezes and then drops to her side.

“I have not been fighting with anyone, Senpai,” Youji says, still smiling.

She tilts her head, understanding a little better now what he does with words. “Letting people hit you again?”

He laughs. “Oh well, it seems easier, sometimes.”

“Was it about Akashi again?”

Youji's smile falls and he shakes his head, “No, it wasn't about Masa-chan. How are you, Senpai?”

He's changing the subject, and she figures she might as well let him. And then—because she's watching him very closely—she notices the way his eyes dart to her left hand and then back to her.

_Michiru must have told him_ , Hinami thinks, feeling panicked. But then she's not sure why she feels panicked, and she yells at herself for it.

“I'm fine,” she says. And she's not sure what she's supposed to say after that. Does she tell him Ichikawa proposed? Does she not tell him?

“Did your parents love each other?” she blurts out, and then she's appalled by her own question.

“No,” Youji says, not reacting at all to the rudeness or randomness of her question. “I don't believe they did.”

This happens, more often than not, so she just nods her head. “Mine did. They were so deeply in love. Every day they acted like newlyweds. It was embarrassing to be around, sometimes. It was so complete, the way they loved each other, like how it is in movies—”

She doesn't know why she's talking about this, or why she's talking about this to Youji, when she couldn't bring it up last night with her best friend.

But he's watching her with a kind of quiet attentiveness that's like the confessional of a Catholic priest.

“I sometimes think I can't achieve that,” she says, abandoning all sense of reason or propriety. “I don't think I can ever love anyone that deeply.”

It's not something she's ever told anyone before. It’s the closest she has ever allowed herself to acknowledge all the ways she is broken, and has been broken, ever since she was sixteen and left alone in the world.

Youji says quietly, “That's OK, Senpai. Everyone loves in a different way. You don't have to love like your parents did. You can just love the way you know how.”

This is not something anyone has ever said to her. She's surprised to find that she wants to cry. She doesn't, because that's not the kind of person she is. But she has to walk away from him ( _now_ ) otherwise she will do something—something _reckless_.

So she walks away.

She is fairly certain she can't marry Ichikawa.

*

Three days later, she still hasn't told Ichikawa that she can't marry him, and she's never hated herself more than she does right now. She feels like a coward and also _dishonest_.

But three days later, one of the privates is found dead in his barrack, having hung himself from his closet door.

*

Everyone has heard of Okimoto Shinkichi by the time Hinami tracks down Lieutenant Kobayashi. Private Okimoto had been in Kobayashi’s training squad, and Hinami is worried about how the man is handling the news.

Not well, by the looks of it. The man looks like a live wire. Hinami spots Hayato before approaching Kobayashi. “How is he doing?” she says in a low voice.

“Not well,” Hayato says.

“Have you talked to him?”

“I have tried,” the man says. “But—I can't. I'm not the right person.”

“You're his best friend!” Hinami hisses. Those two have known each other since grade school, and Hinami has always thought they were what best friends _should_ be (rather than, say, whatever the hell co-dependant thing was going on between Youji and Masaomi.) There was no one who had a better chance of comforting Kobayashi in this moment.

“Yes, but I'm still a man. Also, I told him he should take time off weeks ago, and now he thinks maybe I was right. It's—complicated. You go talk to him, Kasamatsu. _Please._ ”

“I was going to anyway,” she snaps, and then moves to Kobayashi. She sits down right in front of him, whereas everyone else has kept a wide berth around him like he might explode at any minute.

“Sir,” she starts. She's never been real great at grief, so she just carries on with, “This wasn't your fault. And you can't blame yourself.”

He snorts. His lips tighten and he says, very stiffly, “It was my fault, Kasamatsu. As his commanding officer, I should have noticed something was wrong. Apparently,” he clears his throat, “apparently he was being bullied.”

“Oh,” Hinami says. Bullying existed in the ranks—no one knew that better than the female recruits—and it's always been something that Hinami has tried to squash whenever she's in charge of the younger ranks.

“Sir—”

“I should have noticed. But my wife left me, so I didn't. I was preoccupied.”

Hinami winces. They'd all known his marriage was on the rocks, but she hadn’t known it was officially over. No wonder Hayato told him to take time off.

“That queer would have never made it on active duty,” someone says derisively. “He was—”

Kobayashi looks at the man with murder etched into the hard lines of his face and the man quiets. Hayato yanks the man by his collar and pulls him out of the room.

“It wasn't your fault, Kobayashi,” Hinami says, her voice lowering. Then she rubs her eyes, and thinks about how she how bad she is at this. “Do you want to go get drunk?”

“It wouldn't be a great idea,” Kobayashi says tightly.

“Okay. Do you want to go to the shooting range?”

“Even less of a good idea. But yes, let's do that.”

*

The next day,  the fight breaks out.

Hinami, like the majority of the base, did not actually witness the fight. In fact, she didn't hear about it until just after it was over, when everyone was running to the scene. She grabs someone by the arm who is running in the direction everyone else is and demands, “What's going on?”

Wide-eyed, her informant says, “Yamazaki is murdering a bunch of people.”

And Hinami takes off running.

*

She shoves her way through the crowd, but the fight is already over.

Setsuna catches her arm, “Don't, Senpai. You don't—”

“What happened?” Hinami demands. Michiru is standing there too, wide-eyed. She has a bruised cheek and a fat lip, and she looks like someone in shock.

“Youji attacked a group of soldiers,” Setsuna says, her voice even. “And I think you should go home right now, Senpai.”

“But why?” Hinami persists. “Why would—”

Something in Setsuna’s gaze flickers, and something else starts to fall together in Hinami, even before she hears Ichikawa shouting.

“—Want him arrested, do you understand me? That man needs to be behind _bars_. He needs to be _put down_.”

“Walk it off, Ichikawa,” Kobayashi says.

Hinami's blood runs cold at the sight of the man who is her almost-fiancee. He's still standing, but only because someone else is supporting him. His face looks _pounded_ —beaten and swollen. He's gripping an arm that is unnaturally still, and there are other people being taken away on stretchers.

“I suppose Youji didn't take the news of your engagement well,” Setsuna says, off-hand.

“No,” Hinami whispers. “No, he wouldn't—” Youji wouldn't beat anyone senseless over a woman, Hinami feels this in her bones. Youji wouldn't do something like this for no reason. “Sakurai, what happened?”

Michiru turns to her, still wide-eyed. It's like she doesn't really process Hinami's presence. “Sakurai! _Michiru_!”

Michiru finally focuses on her. “Youji just went—nuts,” Michiru says, her voice detached. “I've never—he was like some sort of wild animal. I've never seen anyone fight like that. It was like he didn't even feel pain, when they hit him back. It didn't stop him at all. I tried to—we all tried to stop him. Kobayashi pulled him off and sent him to the med ward.”

Michiru falls silent then, but Hinami can see her sizing her up, with the same unspoken question Setsuna didn't quite pose— _Is this because of you?_

But it's not, it's not, Hinami knows it can't be. She pulls out of Setsuna's hold and walks closer to Kobayashi and Ichikawa.

“ _Walk it off?_ ” Ichikawa says incredulously. “I can't believe he's not already in chains—”

“It was a brawl amongst the ranks,” Kobayashi cuts in sharply. “It happens.”

“This wasn't a brawl, that was a savage beast. What the _hell_ , Kobayashi?”

“ _I heard what he said to you_ ,” Kobayashi hisses, and Hinami has never seen him look so coldly furious. “So if you want to press charges, fine, I will _personally_ conduct a _full_ investigation into the matters that led to this event and make sure _all_ due punishment is handed out. Is that what you want, Ichikawa?”

Ichikawa’s eyes narrow, but he doesn't respond.

“Come on, Ichikawa,” the friend supporting him says. “You need to go to the hospital.”

For a second, no one seems sure of what will happen. But then Ichikawa and his friend start moving away. Ichikawa sees Hinami but it's like he looks right through her, and they move away without him saying anything to her at all. Maybe he didn't really see her.

 She focuses on Kobayashi. “What did Youji say?”

Kobayashi almost startles at the sight of her, like he too, hadn’t noticed she was there. He regains his composure very quickly. “It's none of your concern, Kasamatsu. This was a brawl, nothing more.”

He's covering it up, Hinami realizes. Even though she’d heard him talk to Ichikawa, she  hadn't fully processed what was happening. She respects Kobayashi more than any other CO she's worked with, and she's not sure what to do with this information.

“Please,” she blurts out. “I'm—I'm dating Ichikawa. And Youji is my friend.”

Just like that, she's not a soldier talking to her commanding officer. She's not someone who has always lived by a strong sense of right and wrong. She's just Hinami.

Kobayashi looks at her with something like pity in his eyes, and that in and of itself is almost too horrible to bear.

“Youji said—‘How does it feel to fight a fag who hits back?’”

*

There are too many realizations happening all at the same time, and Hinami can't even begin to process them. And all she can really think about is the fact that she wants to see Youji, now, and see if he's OK.

(Later, she will think about the fact that she wanted to see Youji and not Ichikawa. Later, she will wonder why she was so sure that between the two of them, Youji wouldn't have hit someone for no reason. But she doesn't think about that now. Now, all she thinks about is how much she needs to see him, and hopes that order can once again be restored to her world.)

“I need to see Yo—Yamazaki,”  Hinami tells the nurse at the reception desk in the med ward.

“You can,” the woman says doubtfully, “but perhaps you should wait a bit, Akashi-sama just went in.”

Hinami's not sure what irritates her more—the fact that the middle-aged nurse referred to Masaomi with honorifics, or the idea that he took priority in visiting Youji. “Room number.”

“9D,” the nurse says.

“Thank you,” Hinami says coolly, and strides away.

She stops while rounding the corner—for a reason she doesn't quite understand—when she sees Youji on his bed through the open door. She hears voices and hangs back, wondering why the entire time.

“Wow, you look like crap.”

“You should see the other guys.”

“Oh, I did.”

Youji doesn't look that bad—physically—bruises and cuts on his face, but not visibly worse for wear beyond that. He swings his legs over his bed, so that his back is turned to Hinami's corner and he looks up at Masaomi.

“Are you going to cover up my crimes again?” Youji says bitterly, and Hinami freezes, now sure that she can't approach them. “That's what you do, right? Pay off the cops every time I nearly kill a man.”

“As it happens, yes, that's exactly what I'm here to do. But apparently I don't have to, your CO seems to be taking care of that for me.”

She can see Masaomi better than she can see Youji—and even though she knows she shouldn't be looking, she can't take her eyes away from Masaomi. She has never seen him look so young. No, that's not quite it.

_Vulnerable_ , Hinami thinks. Akashi Masaomi looks vulnerable.

Masaomi lifts up his hand and gently begins tracing his fingertips on Youji's face. “Oh, Youji. You were doing so well. What happened?”

“Okimoto Shinkichi happened,” Youji says, and that's everything that Hinami was beginning to realize, but was too afraid to acknowledge.

“I didn't—I didn't know how to help him,” Youji says, his voice raw and broken and not like anything Hinami has ever heard. “The only thing I knew how to do is—what I did. Beat the shit out of them. But I didn't want to do that, so I didn't help him. And now he's dead. And I beat the shit out of them anyway—” he breaks off, and once again Hinami thinks about her own trespass.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Masaomi asks. “I could have taken care of it.”

_Why didn't you tell_ me _?_ Hinami wants to ask. Youji—Youji knows her, or at least she thought he did. How could he think she wouldn't want to know what Ichikawa and his friends were doing?

_Does he know you read yaoi manga?_

All of the sudden it occurs to her that maybe Youji had tried.

“I didn't know what to do,” Youji repeats, like he's ignoring Masaomi's question. “I don't know how to save anyone.”

“Youji,” Masaomi starts.

“I really fucked up this time, Masa-chan,” Youji says, and his voice hitches, and there's a sob in his throat. “She's never going to love me now.”

And just like that, he has his arms wrapped around Masaomi, his face pressed against his chest, and Masaomi holds him, caressing Youji's back and head in a way that doesn't really seem platonic.

“Shh. She's an idiot, she's just the biggest idiot in the world,” Masaomi murmurs.

“No, she's not,” is Youji's muffled response and he pulls back to look up pleading. “No one loves me. Only you. You know what's sad? I don't think anyone ever loved me until you did. What does that say about me, that there's not a single person who thought I was worth loving until I was eighteen? And in all the world, only you—and even you—”

“Quiet, Youji,” Masaomi says, and he presses a kiss against Youji's forehead, and then kisses the side of his face. “Everyone loves Youji, you're being silly now. And so what if I was first? I'm the smartest person in the world. I never knew how to love anyone until I loved you and you're just being ridiculous, because all the best people love you.”

He kisses Youji’s temple again, and goes back to cradling him, and whispering soft, soothing croons.

Hinami pulled back finally—the immensity of her own violation finally catching up to her.

She still feels shaken by everything: about the revelations of Ichikawa’s cruelty, about the implications of Youji's sexuality, about the woman that Youji loves.

But the image of Masaomi cradling Youji sears into her mind. Up until this moment, part of her never truly believed that Masaomi could care about anyone. Masaomi suddenly seems human to her, in a way he never had before.

And not for the first time, she begins to wonder about their relationship. They didn't talk like lovers would. But then, they didn't really talk like people who were strictly _friends_ would either.

It doesn't matter. It's just an easier thing to think about, then everything else that came from this terrible event.

It is also easier to think about Masaomi and Youji rather than her own instinctive reaction to Youji's declaration of “no one loves me but you,’ which was a surge of indignation, and the automatic desire to say, that's not true at all, because _I_ love—

Yes. She didn't want to think about that at all.

*

Over the next couple weeks, Shiori hears all about the fight at the JSDF base from her three friends. One by one, they came to her, like they were attending a confessional, or some sort of counseling session.

Shiori doesn't mind—it helps her feel connected, since she was the only one of the four of them who hadn't been there there that day. And it helps her sort through her own self-recriminations about what happened.

Masaomi comes first, which is not a surprise.

“I just don't understand why he wouldn't tell me,” Masaomi says, for about the tenth time after he recounts everything to Shiori. And that is something Shiori wonders too—why didn't Youji say anything? Especially considering she gave him the opportunity at Setsuna and Shigure's second wedding.

The implication of mistrust would be worse for Masaomi, though. “He's my best friend! He knows I would have taken care of things.”

“Perhaps he didn't want you to,” Shiori says lightly. “Perhaps he didn't want you to take care of things for him.”

“Not everyone is so abominably prideful,” Masaomi snaps. “Youji isn't like that.”

“No, he's not. Pride is not one of Youji-san’s sins,” Shiori says, faintly amused since pride _is_ one of Masaomi's sins. “But that isn't what I meant. Being friends with you, Masaomi-san—it's a bit like being friends with a dragon. You are incredibly powerful, and you could destroy anyone you want so easily.”

“Thank you,” Masaomi says, pleased by this comparison.

“Part of being friends with a dragon is not abusing the privilege.”

“That's absurd, if I was friends with a dragon, I would have that dragon destroy all my enemies.”

“No, you wouldn't.”

“No, I suppose I wouldn't,” Masaomi allows, and then he sighs.

This seems to mollify Masaomi somewhat, although Shiori still feels mildly unconvinced by her own logic. But she has other questions.

“This isn't the first time he's done something like this, is it?” she asks, and Masaomi’s whole manner shifts. This must be exactly what it feels like to stand in the middle of a frozen lake on very thin ice and to hear cracking sounds.

Masaomi eyes her, very much like the dragon she just alluded to, “Why, Shiori, whatever do you mean?”

“There were rumors on campus, you know,” she says with extreme caution. “They said Youji-san nearly beat a man to death your first year.”

Masaomi snorts and it's like she can see the dragon settling down again. Whatever threat he sensed had passed, leaving Shiori wondering what it was Masaomi thought she had been referring to. “You shouldn't listen to gossip, Shiori.”

“In my experience, there's usually a fair amount of truth in gossip,” Shiori smiles, well aware of the gossip that had circulated about her when they were in college.

“Yes, unfortunately, mine too. Well. Yes. Youji did nearly beat a man to death in our first year. Although, in his defense, I think at the time Youji genuinely didn't understand that not everyone is raised with advanced military training. He expected the man to fight back. Or at least, be stronger than he was.”

Shiori mulls over this new information about her friend. She knows remarkably little about Youji’s past—but then, she never talks about her childhood either—and finds that it is rather easy to imagine that he knew how to fight from a very young age. She also thinks about how it's not something that ever occurred to her before now.

“What do you know about Youji-san's family?” she asks.

Masaomi shrugs. “Only that they kicked him out for liking dick. Youji doesn't talk about it much.”

“And that he was raised with advanced military training?” Shiori says, raising a brow.

“That I figured out from context clues.”

She tilts her head and says, “Are you being evasive, or do you genuinely not know?”

“I genuinely don’t know,” Masaomi says, sounding amused. “I don’t know much about Youji’s past.”

“That surprises me, considering how close the two of you are.”

“We don’t know everything about each other. I never needed to know his past, I know _him,_ and that’s what matters.” Masaomi’s expression grows grave, perhaps as he remembers that he clearly didn’t know everything that was going on in Youji’s present, either.

“He must have been very careful since then, not to show his strength,” Shiori observes. She knows how many fights Youji got in during his college years. Or rather, how many beatings he took on Masaomi's behalf. 

Willingly took, it seems.

“Yes, he has been,” Masaomi says, a tad grumpily. “I don't approve. I don't like it when anyone pretends to be less than what they are. But I suppose, given the circumstances, I can understand what he tried to maintain control.”

“Gracious of you.”

“Quiet, you,” Masaomi says jabbing a finger at her. There is a long silence before he says, “How did _you_ know?”  
            “What?” she asks.

“Don’t play dumb. You knew all along that Youji didn’t like Ichikawa, and you knew that his dislike _meant_ something. Don’t think that I’ve forgotten that. _I_ knew that it must have been important if _you_ thought it did, but still I didn’t pursue it. That was my mistake. But I want to know how _you_ knew it mattered. What did you see in Youji that I did not?”

“Jealous?” Shiori says, mostly to poke fun.

“Not in the way you think,” Masaomi replies, surprising her. “You are the only person who continually bests me, Shiori. I like that about you. But it is also frustrating. I suspect that your skills are not something I could learn for myself, no matter how much I try.”

That was, perhaps, the most complimentary thing anyone had ever said to her. She just wishes that she deserved it more, because this whole affair has left her with her own sense of bitterness. “Do not praise me so much, Masaomi-san. It is worse from me. I did know, but I did not insist on knowing the full reason. And that was _my_ mistake.”

“But _how?_ ” Masaomi insists. “Are you psychic? A mindreader? Witchcraft?”

“None of those things, Masaomi-san,” Shiori says. She wishes she had magical abilities. That would make life easier. “Youji-san is a very charming man. He never once tried to charm Ichikawa-san. That is how I knew he disliked the man.”

“But why wasn’t it enough just to think he disliked him for fucking the woman he loves?” Masaomi says. “Why was my logic so faulty?”

This is, perhaps, what disturbs Masaomi the most. Not that Youji didn’t tell him, not even that something was wrong and he didn’t realize it, but that his logic was wrong. Shiori tilts her head and says, “Do you really want to know?”

“I have never been afraid of the truth,” Masaomi says.

“Because Youji-san believes you are a good man,” Shiori says. Masaomi raises his brows but doesn’t say anything, so Shiori continues. “You have done terrible things, Masaomi-san. And Youji-san knows this and still believes in your goodness. I have always thought that must be because he has experienced genuine cruelty. I believe that Youji-san could forgive most anything in the world but genuine cruelty. So I thought perhaps he knew something about Ichikawa’s character that I did not. But instead of asking for more details, I believed him when he said that it was only because Ichikawa-san reminded him of someone he knew. I wanted to believe him when he said it was nothing.”

“I was right,” Masaomi announces after a moment of reflection. “That kind of logic is not something I could ever acquire.” He looks at her consideringly and says, “I’ll just have to stick with you, then.”

Shiori pretends she isn’t pleased by the thought.

*

Next is Hinami, who Shiori sees first on her own and then at another Girl's Night.

“Of course I broke up with him,” Hinami says, a tad heated, after Shiori asks. “I wouldn't have—Shiori, did you know?”

“That he was violently homophobic? No, and I am ashamed of that,” Shiori says.

“Me too,” Hinami says. She flexes her fingers in and out of a fist, like she’s trying to shake off a feeling, or a touch. She swallows and looks away. “I _detest_ myself for not knowing. Had he been _cheating_ on me, I could have forgiven myself for not knowing. But not this. I can’t—I can’t believe I—” she wraps her arms around herself, as if bracing herself from some sort of impact.

Shiori moves to hug Hinami, but Hinami steps away. “No. I don’t deserve your comfort.”

“Hinami-senpai, you are being unfair to yourself!” Shiori cries out. “ _I_ did not know, so many others did not—”

“But I almost married him,” Hinami says, off-hand. “I should have known him best. I don’t think I have ever been so wrong before. I am not sure I can ever trust my judgement again.”

Once again, Shiori finds that she is furious with Youji for not saying anything. She understands why perhaps he couldn’t tell _Hinami,_ the woman that he loved, that the man she loved was a monster. And she understands why he did not tell Masaomi, who would have brutally and ruthlessly taken care of matters in a way that would make Masaomi and Masaomi alone seem like the bad guy. But she has no idea why he couldn’t have told _her._

_Youji-san, you have been so cruel to this woman,_ she thinks. And perhaps that’s why she asks, “Do you wish Youji-san had told you?”

Hinami flinches—which is not at all the reaction Shiori thought she would have. “I was mad at first. I hate myself for that too. Youji—Youji must have thought I wouldn’t care. He didn’t owe me anything.” She looks up at the sky, like she’s blinking away tears. “Did you know he was bisexual?”

“Youji-san?” Shiori says, surprised. “Yes, of course, I—you didn’t?” It occurs that she’s not sure why she assumed Hinami must know. It wasn’t something Youji talked about all that often. And he hasn’t dated anyone, not since he fell in love with Hinami.

“He must not have trusted me,” Hinami says, sounding sad. “And I don’t blame him. I was dating a monster. Of course he didn’t trust me.”

“Hinami-senpai,” Shiori protests again.

“Ichikawa Kenzo murdered a man,” Hinami says bluntly. “And I might as well have helped him.”

And Shiori understands that Hinami doesn’t want comfort for this—would break entirely if anyone tried to comfort her about this. Because she is suffering, but she will never forgive herself for Okimoto Shinkichi’s suffering. So the only thing Shiori can do is quietly promise not to bring it up again.

A few weeks later, at the Girl’s Night, Shiori had already dictated to Michiru and Setsuna that they must not bring up Hinami’s recent break-up or Youji’s fight. But it is Hinami who first ventures, “Shiori, you love Youji, right?”

Girl’s Night is at Shiori's house this time, which is how she was able to dictate the rules, and she feels relaxed in a way she doesn't expect. It's been a long time since she had multiple female friends.

“Platonically, I mean,” Hinami rushes in. “Like, I _love_ you, Shiori.” Shiori wonders if Hinami is drunk, although she's only had one cocktail.

(Although, Michiru was the self-proclaimed bartender for the evening, and made the cocktails, so chances are the alcohol levels are high in that one drink.)

“Yes, I suppose I love Youji-san, platonically,” Shiori says, amused.

“And Michiru—you love Youji, right?”

“Like my brother from another mother,” Michiru says, patting her on the hand.

“Then why does he think only Masaomi loves him?” Hinami asks sadly.

Shiori blinks, surprised, but Michiru is the one who answers, “Youji has a crippling low self-esteem, didn't you know?”

“ _Youji_?” Hinami says.

“Yes,” Michiru says, tilting her head. “I've wondered about it for a while now. He seems confident enough, but once you get to know him you realize he generally assumes no one likes him.”

“But—” Hinami frowns, and she looks pleadingly at Shiori.

Who has to reluctantly say, “I have thought that for a while now, Senpai. Youji-san is a very friendly person, but he wears a lot of masks, and I believe he does not think anyone would like the man underneath.”

Michiru gives her a sardonic look, and if she could speak telepathically she'd be saying, _Like you?_ Shiori only smiles, and she's once again impressed with Michiru's perceptive skills.

“But why is Masaomi the exception?” Hinami pouts, and Shiori thinks she is definitely drunk, or at least tipsy. It occurs to her that she's never seen Hinami drink hard liquor before.

“Oh, well, Masaomi. He doesn't count because he's not real,” Michiru says flippantly.

Hinami raises a brow. “He's just a shared hallucination we have all experienced? Actually, that would make so much sense.”

“See, it would though, wouldn't it? If, tomorrow, Masaomi revealed that he was secretly an alien from another planet, or a genetic experiment, or some sort of youkai, it would be really easy to believe that, wouldn't it?” Michiru says.

Everyone nods as they reflect that yes, that would be a fairly easy thing to accept.

“So that's why Youji can believe Masaomi loves him,” Michiru declares.

“Admittedly, she says that because she ships it,” Setsuna says.

“Me too!” Shiori says enthusiastically—far more enthusiastic than she meant to sound, and it startles everyone. She covers her mouth and blushes faintly, vowing not to drink anything else that Michiru makes.

“Why, Shi-chan! You randy little thing you,” Michiru teases.

“Ships what?” Hinami says.

“Masaomi and Youji,” Shiori says, not meeting her gaze and aware that she’s still blushing. “I just think they'd be a cute couple.”

“You mean they're really not?” Setsuna says, a tad disappointed.

“And I’d like it if they made out,” Shiori says wistfully. “Preferably while I was watching, so I could get—”

She breaks off.

“Get what?” Michiru pounces.

“Nothing,” Shiori says quickly. “We were focusing on Hinami-senpai. Hinami-senpai?”

Hinami is still frowning, like she's thinking about a particularly challenging math problem. “They would make a good couple,” she announces, like she's having a revelation. “Youji said they had the same soul.”

“He _I am Heathcliff_ -ed Masaomi-san?” Shiori startles.

Hinami nods and adds, “And he hasn’t even read the book.”

“How romantic,” Setsuna says.

“Not really, if you think about the source material,” Shiori points out dryly.

“I think they must be in love with each other,” Hinami says, still swept up in her own revelations.

“Yes, yes, we've known that forever, catch up, Hinami,” Michiru says, still fixating on Shiori with a dangerous gleam in her eye. “So you could get what?”

Shiori gives up. “The pose right. I've been working on an original manga. In which they are the—inspiration.”

“Oooh,” Michiru squeals. “Let me see!”

And it's not something she would ever ordinarily do. Shiori hasn't shared her sketches with anyone since high school, (very few people even know about her occupation as a doujinshi mangaka. Setsuna and Michiru only know because they bought her doujinshi and happened to recognize her style when she was showing some of her finished work to Hinami). It's not something she thought she'd ever feel comfortable sharing with another person again, but somehow all three women are crowded around her sketchbook while she buries her beet-red face into her hands.

“Oh my God. Oh my _God_. This is so much naked Masaomi and Youji!” Michiru exclaims. “Do they _know—”_

“No, and you're not telling them!” Shiori snaps.

“That depends,” Setsuna says slyly. “Can you draw het stuff at all? Because I want to commission a picture of me and Shigure fucking like a hentai manga.”

“I could probably do that,” Shiori says carefully.

“Awesome, that'll be payment for my silence.”

“What are you even going to do with that?” Michiru demands.

“Give it to Shigure for a birthday present, of course,” Setsuna says.

“Of course,” Michiru rolls her eyes, and continues flipping through the pages. “So, Shiori, how accurate _are_ these pictures?”

“Purely imaginative from the neck down,” Shiori says, smiling again.

“Hmm. Pity.”

Hinami, Shiori notes, has not said anything. But Hinami, Shiori also notes, is looking wrapt at the sketchbook, face red.

“And you're writing a manga?” Setsuna asks.

“I'm sketching one,” Shiori says, a tad apologetically. “I've discovered I'm no good at writing out stories.”

“Well, let me know if you ever finish anything,” Michiru says. “I’d love to read it. Although I have no idea how you're going to keep this a secret from Masaomi.”

“I don't plan to, not forever. I'm saving this for a special occasion.”

The teasing escalates from there—but it's warm, and relaxing, in a way Shiori hadn’t known friendship could be. They don't allude to Hinami's break-up for the rest of the evening.

But, Shiori remembers Hinami's blush, her interest in the pictures, the way she said Youji's name. And for the very first time, Shiori begins to think Youji’s unrequited pining is not so helpless after all.

*

Last, it is Youji himself. He takes the longest and Shiori almost grows impatient with waiting. But she's determined that he must come to her, otherwise she knows she won't get answers.

And eventually, he does come.

They go out for tea, and there are no traces of bruises on his face. “You do heal remarkably fast. I've always thought so,” Shiori remarks, deciding there's not much point in avoiding the topic.

“Just good genes,” Youji says. He doesn't quite look at her, so she waits.

Finally, after a silence that would have been awkward, if they had been any other two people, Youji says, “I'm sorry, Shi-chan.”

_Ah_ , Shiori thinks. _Youji-san would be the kind of person who would apologize first._

The proper, good person, thing to do, would be to reassure Youji that he shouldn't apologize. For most people—the good people—they wouldn't understand why Youji _was_ apologizing. After all he had been—

( _The victim?_ Shiori thinks. No, that's not quite right. That private who killed himself was the victim. Youji attacked six men and by all accounts, almost murdered them. So why does it _seem_ so much like he's the victim in this unfortunate event?)

“Youji-san, I had all but begged you to tell me why you did not like Ichikawa-san,” Shiori blurts out, because she is not a good person, and because she finds that she is still angry.

Youji flinches. “I know. That's why I'm sorry.”

“I didn't ask for my own sake,” Shiori says, struggling to remain calm. “I begged you to tell me for Hinami-senpai.”

She is not, no matter what others might think, hurt that Youji didn't trust her. She is not like Masaomi, not someone who feels Youji's trust and confidence was owed to her.

But this—this hurt _Hinami_. She cannot believe Youji could be so thoughtless.

“I didn't think it would affect her,” Youji says curtly.

“Not affect—” she stares at Youji, and wonders how he above all people could misunderstand Hinami's character. “She could never love a cruel man, I thought you knew that.”

“I did,” Youji says, his voice falling. “I thought him cruel. I had no reason to think anyone else would.”

“Youji-san,” Shiori says. She is confused, but knows that she is on the brink of clarity, and it frightens her.

Youji still doesn't look at her. “I didn't know other people would care. No one ever did before. I thought maybe I was wrong. I didn't—I didn't think others would want to save him.”

_Because no one saved you._

Shiori has to remain quiet and still, because otherwise she would lose her composure entirely. That's the missing piece: that's what even Masaomi failed to understand. Youji didn't ask for help because when he was the victim, no one helped him. He genuinely didn’t think others would care.

(“What do you know about Youji-san's family?” Shiori had asked. “Only that they kicked him out for liking dick. Youji doesn't talk about it much.” She thinks, now, that there must have been much more to the story. This whole affair might have been prevented if someone had known that story.)

“Your friends would have cared for no other reason but that you cared,” Shiori says lightly. “But I also think you should trust that the people in your life now are more decent in nature than the ones you might have known in your past.”

He startles, then smiles—a soft expression, with the gentle and ephemeral nature of a butterfly landing on your hand. “Yes. You're right. But, Shi-chan, do we ever really escape from our past? Sometimes—sometimes I think it doesn't matter how much time passes, we're only ever going to be who we were.”

_Ah_ , Shiori thinks again. It occurs to her, as it has occurred to her many times before, that there's no one more like her than Youji, even though they are very different people.

“I don't know, Youji-san. I think some people would say anything is possible, it just depends on your choices. That who you are is defined by the choices that you make.”

“You don't think that's true?” Youji asks, surprised.

“I do believe that,” Shiori corrects. “But I don't think it's enough. I think, making the right choices gets easier when you have other people believing in you. When you have good people in your life who love you, it’s easier to _be_ a better person. I think the people in our life determines more who we are now than he who were before.”

“Hmm,” Youji considers this, “you know, Shi-chan, sometimes I wish I was in love with you.”

Shiori laughs, because she's thought the same thing many times before. “Yes. That would make things easier, wouldn't it?”

*

The strangest thing that occurs from all this is how little consequences there are.

Youji still has a job at the JSDF—the fact that he beat the shit out of six guys neatly swept away and forgotten. In fact, it is Ichikawa and his friends who mysteriously drop out one day never to return again. Youji tries not to think too much about what might have happened there. And Youji still has his friends.

Moreover, there's Hinami. He—well, he never _had_ Hinami, but he fully expected to lose her entirely after he beat up her boyfriend (fiance?) He was so sure it would confirm exactly what she first thought him to be—cruel and violent and possibly the minion of the devil.

Masaomi tells him that he should quit the JSDF, and Youji isn't sure why he doesn't. He spends the next couple of weeks dodging any possible encounter with Hinami.

“Coward,” Michiru says. (And that's another friendship he hadn't expected to survive. He saw her face after he beat up those guys; he knows he scared her).

“Yes,” Youji agrees, heading in the opposite direction, after Michiru told him Hinami was looking for him.

He knows he's a coward. But he can't face her. Not yet. (Maybe not ever. He doesn't want to see the look of disappointment on her face.) So he's pretty determined to keep hiding from Hinami for as long as humanly possible.

A plan that gets fully derailed with a sudden kick to the back that sends him unexpectedly flying.

“You— _asshole_!”

“Hinami-senpai?” Youji says plaintively, rubbing his back. It doesn't hurt, although he's very surprised.

She grabs him by the collar and hauls him forward, and then she proceeds to shake him vigorously. “I have been looking for you! I have been calling you! I have left messages with all your friends! _I called Akashi Masaomi_ to reach you! Do you know how humiliating that was for me?”

“You called Masa-chan?” Youji says, impressed with her thoroughness. He was sure that was something she'd never do. “How did you even get his number?”

“I had to ask Shiori! Who also couldn't get you to stop running from me like a—jerk!” She releases his collar and crosses her arms, and Youji is somewhat relieved she's let go. He was getting dizzy from all the shaking.

“I'm sorry,” he blurts out, because he _had_ been cowardly. “I mean, for hiding. I guess I'm not sorry for beating up your boyfriend, and I know that makes me a terrible person, but—”

“He's not my boyfriend anymore,” Hinami cuts in. “And you don't need—there's not—you don't owe _me_ an apology. For that. You're still a dick for running away from me, but I'll accept your apology on that.”

“... Oh,” Youji says. Hinami’s not looking at him. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Now that she's no longer yelling at him, it suddenly feels very awkward.

“You're my friend, Youji,” Hinami says.

“I am?” Youji startles.

“Of course—” she looks at him and then looks away. “Of course you are. And I wish you had told me Ichikawa was a homophobic piece of shit.”

“Oh,” Youji says again, definitely feeling lightheaded from the statement, _of course you are_. (Or maybe it's because of the shaking). “I didn't think—I didn't think you’d care.”

_“How_ could you think—” Hinami bites off her exclamation. It's like he can watch her counting to ten. “Of course I care. I could never, _never_ be with someone who is cruel to anyone. And—and what if I had married him, and we had kids, and I had a gay son. I could have had a gay son, Youji!”

“Right,” Youji says, feeling somehow guilty towards Hinami's hypothetically gay children. “Did you—did you want to marry him?”

“No,” Hinami says shortly, “I didn't. And I'm really glad I had that revelation _before_ I found out he was a bully and a homophobe.”

Youji looks at her sharply, not sure if he heard her correctly.

“You still should—you still _could_ have told me. I abhor cruelty.”

“I know,” Youji says, and he can't help the sadness that's in his voice. That's what he is, after all. A cruel, violent man, who will always be what he was trained to be. He also knows, _now,_ that he should have tried harder to tell her. She would have been able to save Okimoto. He wishes he could have been able to save Okimoto. He should have done a lot of things differently to save that boy.

“Did he—hurt you?” Hinami asks, and Youji is surprised again. He's never heard her sound hesitant before.

Youji shrugs, feeling like it's best if he doesn't answer.

“ _Youji_ ,” Hinami says fiercely. “Please—please don't hide from me.”

Abashed, Youji says, “Not at first. He didn't know I was bisexual until I started trying to get in the way of him and Okimoto. I guess, uh, you never told him?”

Hinami flinches and snaps, “How could I have, I didn't know.” Then in a smaller voice she adds, “You never told me.”

Youji blinks and if he didn't know better, he would think she sounded sad—like she thought he didn't trust her. But since when did Hinami care about what he thought of her?

“I mean, you didn't _have_ to tell me, you didn’t have to tell anyone,” Hinami rushes into say. “But—”

“I thought you knew?” Youji says quizzically. “I thought Shi-chan would have mentioned it, or someone on campus. It wasn't exactly a secret.”

It wasn't common knowledge either, he knows that. But he did genuinely assume she had known at some point.

“Well, I didn't,” Hinami says. She takes in a deep breath and then meets his gaze. “I don’t think I can properly express how sorry I am that I failed you. I am sorry. I was not someone you could trust and that was my fault. I will strive to be a better friend to you.”

“Senpai,” Youji protests, suddenly alarmed and feeling awful. “That’s not—” It’s not _her_ fault he never told anyone. Masaomi had very thorough lectures on Youji needing to work on his communication skills.

She looks sad when she says, “We are friends... aren't we?”

“I'd like us to be,” Youji says quietly, still loving her with everything he is. Being her friend would be one of the highest honors he could obtain.

“We are,” she says firmly. “I—I care about you, Youji.”

“Oh,” Youji says, wondering if maybe he's hallucinating this conversation.

But just as quickly as she came (but much less forcefully) she whirls around and leaves.

*

He didn't think they'd be able to return to normal after that. But more and more, Hinami seems to hang out with them, even seeming to strike an uneasy truce with Masaomi.

Most days, Michiru and the Imayoshis join them. But sometimes it's just the four of them, like college, (only better, Youji thinks, because Hinami never could tolerate Masaomi much in the college) and it's a bit like a double date, although Youji feels horrendously guilty for even having thoughts like that, because he is not dating her, and Masaomi is not dating Shiori.

When he allows himself the indulgence, sometimes he pretends.

*

Sometimes Youji thinks he will never meet a person he understands better than Nakahara Shiori. A long time ago, he told Masaomi she was peaceful to be around, and Masaomi hadn't understood what that meant.

But, Youji thinks, out of all the people he knows, Shiori is the one most like him. She hides her feelings, most days. If he had to guess, something traumatic happened to her when she was younger, and she remade herself, just as he did. But she never talks about her past, and Youji never asks, because he never talks about his past either.

Sometimes, he still snaps. Like with Ichikawa and his friends. He can't control himself anymore, and his past comes back.

Shiori, apparently, also occasionally snaps. But for her, it was letting the mask slip and the vulnerability shine through.

The day would have been memorable for no other reason than it was the first time Youji ever saw Shiori lose control.

They had gone to a festival together. Shiori steps out because she received notice that she has a phone call. And when she doesn't return, the three of them go to find her, at Hinami's insistence. And when they find her, she is crying.

Youji and Masaomi both freeze—not because it is a woman crying, but because it is _Shiori_. Youji has never seen her so vulnerable before. And she doesn’t cry like someone who has just heard bad news—she cries like someone who has been hurt, over and over again, and still hurt once more. Hinami immediately rushes to her side and throws her arms around her, and Shiori clings to her like a child.

“Shiori! Shiori, what's wrong? What happened?” Hinami urges, but Shiori just shakes her head and sobs more.

Youji recovers next, then Masaomi.

“Shi-chan, Shi-chan, what's wrong? Did someone hurt you? I'll beat them up,” Youji says smiling like it's a joke, even though they both know he would totally beat someone up for her.

Shiori just shakes her head again.

“Stop that,” Masaomi says, crouching at her side. Hinami glares a glare that promises murder, but Shiori lets out a surprised hiccuping laugh, and continues to cry.

She wipes at her eyes, “I apologize. I'll—I just need a second—”

“Don't be absurd,” Masaomi says tartly. “You're upset. Tell me what to do to make it better, and I will do it.”

Shiori smiles through her tears. “You can't fix everything, Masaomi-san.”

“Nonsense, I am a genius and I can do anything. At least tell me what I can get to make you feel better. Would you like an island? A pony? Diamonds?”

“Aw, Shi-chan, at least make him buy you diamonds,” Youji says.

Shiori shakes her head again, “There's nothing, Masaomi-san, I'll—” she has to stop to wipe away tears in her sleeve and Hinami tightens her hold.

“I'll do anything,” Masaomi says.

“We’ll do anything,” Youji reassures. “Anything you want to do today, Shi-chan, to make you feel better.”

“There's nothing, Youji-san, that you can do. I apologize for my distress. I will recover soon,” Shiori says, and it's painful to watch her try to compose herself, to put the mask back on. He can only imagine what Masaomi must be feeling because he hates being useless. _Youji_ feels useless. The only one providing any comfort is Hinami.

“Well,” Hinami says. “You two could kiss.”

Shiori abruptly stops crying and straightens her back. “That would work.”

“Oh, did you _plan_ this?” Masaomi barks out. “You saucy vixen you.”

“No, no,” Shiori says, sniffing, and blushing faintly. “Don't mind me. I'm—I'm recovering.” She laughs at herself.

Youji sighs and straightens from his crouching position. “Alright, Masa-chan. Kiss me.”

“What?” Masaomi yelps, getting to his feet.

“No, it's OK, I promise,” Shiori says.

“I was kidding. Mostly,” Hinami says.

Youji points at Shiori. “This very upset fangirl is our friend. Do you want to make her happy or not? Man up, Masa-chan.”

Masaomi looks at Shiori and then throws his hands up in the air and says, “Fine! But if I'm doing this, I'm doing it right. Akashis don't do anything half-assed.”

Before Youji can ask what the heck that means, Masaomi has one hand around his waist, another cupping his cheek, and he's pulling him in for a very thorough kiss.

*

Youji will admit it: he’s thought about what kissing Masaomi would be like. He always moderately thought it would be combative, because Masaomi picks fights in everything he does. He’s also been told by many of Masaomi’s lovers (and Masaomi himself) that he tends to be very selfish with sexual activities. So Youji figured it might be a fun battle, kissing Masaomi.

But it is always comfortable to be around Masaomi, so Youji always assumed that kissing Masaomi would be comfortable.

In reality, kissing Masaomi is none of those things. Masaomi is a force unto himself, and his tongue is in and out of Youji’s mouth in a teasing way, and Youji completely forgets everything else exists.

Of course, it has been a _very_ long time since he’s kissed anyone, but that’s really no excuse for the whimpering, keening sound that escapes his throat, as he clings to Masaomi, not sure if he can stay standing.

When Masaomi pulls away, Youji can see him breathing in and out, like he's trying to take in air, or calm himself down, and Youji still has to cling onto Masaomi's shirt to steady himself. They stare at each other, and Masaomi looks as confused as Youji feels.

Then they both look at the two women on the curb, who are completely wide-eyed with their stares.

“Don't stop on our account,” Shiori says, and her fingers twitch at her sides, like she's sketching with an invisible pencil.

“Only one free show for you, woman,” Masaomi says, waggling his brows. “You want a repeat performance, you have to pay us. Or you know, join in.” He leers at both of them, causing Shiori to laugh and Hinami to roll her eyes, and slowly things return to normal, even if Youji does have to take a couple of deep breaths to compose himself when no one is watching.

*

Youji ends up walking home with Hinami, which would ordinarily be a joyful occasion, except he's having trouble looking her in the eye. This is only moderately better than if he ended up walking home with Masaomi,which he feels would be even more embarrassing.

“Shouldn't you be comforting Shi-chan?” Youji asks, as a desperate cover up for the fact that _he_ had wanted to be the one to walk home with Shiori, and he wanted to talk to Shiori, because Shiori is the only one he wouldn't be embarrassed to see right now.

(Possibly because Shiori is the only one he doesn't want to kiss. Life is very unfair sometimes.)

“She wanted to be alone, and I felt like it was one of those times where I shouldn’t press,” Hinami says. “Youji—”

He stops walking to look at her, preparing to launch into a speech about how she doesn't need to apologize for essentially daring him to kiss Masaomi because it would have been worth it alone to make Shiori feel better, and how it's not her fault his bisexual self is having a crisis about how much he wants to make out with two of his friends when he can't make out with either of them—

—but then she reaches up, grabs him by the collar, and kisses him soundly.

It's over far too quickly (Youji didn't even get to kiss back! He can't even be sure if it happened! Did he hallucinate it? Holy crap, what if he's having bisexual!crisis hallucinations?)

Except Hinami is still holding on to him, and she's blushing.

There are about a dozen different things he had planned on saying if he ever had the chance to kiss Hinami—(and yes, this was a scenario he planned out thoroughly in his imagination)—a thousand different things he meant to say to make her fall even more in love with him.

But what he actually ends up saying is, “ _That's_ what does it for you? Me making out with Masaomi? How big of a fangirl _are_ you?”

“Shut up,” she says, releasing his collar and still blushing. “That's not what this is about.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cuz I can kiss Masa-chan some more, if that's what gets your engine going, but I think in the long run—”

She punches him (lightly) on the arm and says, “It's not, shut up! Don't you dare tell that to Akashi!”

Youji laughs, feeling a little light-headed from joy, but still confused, and afraid that this isn't real. Or worse, that it's just a thank you, and not—not what he wants it to be.

“It's just,” Hinami says, clearing her throat. She's still red, but she meets his gaze. “It's just—all this time, all I wanted was someone nice. And it hit me—no one else would have done that for Shiori. No one else is kind like you.”

It's only because he's afraid this will all disappear like the memory of last night's dream that keeps him from looking away. But he wants to look away. He's never been good at dealing with anyone complimenting him, and he doesn't know what to do with _Hinami_ complimenting him.

She clears her throat again and says, “And yeah, okay, I'll admit you kissing Akashi was hotter than anything involving Akashi had a right to be, but if you tell anyone I said that I'll deny it with everything I am.”

Youji laughs again, and even she smiles wryly. He cups her cheeks, finally feeling bold, and says, “Senpai? Are you sure? I've loved you forever. Do you—I'm not—I'm just me, still. I'm not sure I'm good enough for you yet.”

“Oh, Youji,” Hinami says, touching his cheek right back. She searches his face, and she looks like there's a million different things she wants to say. “You're you. And you're all I want. I was the one who wasn't enough.”

He's not sure what that means, because she's perfect, but she kisses him again, and he wants to concentrate everything he has to make sure this is the most perfect kiss ever so that she never wants to kiss anyone ever again.

*

It's a sad commentary on Shiori's life that it doesn't even surprise her anymore when Masaomi breaks into her house and she finds him sitting on her bed like he lives there.

“One of these days, I'll have a date over,” Shiori remarks.

“And won't _that_ be an interesting thing for you to explain to the fellow,” Masaomi says cheekily. But then he sobers and tilts his head. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, Masaomi-san. I really did want to be alone for now, thank you.”

But Masaomi does not take the hint. He just says, “I could destroy him, you know.”

“Who?” Shiori smiles.

“Your father.”

Shiori freezes. The silence is as horrible as it is long, and she thinks if he were any other man, she would be screaming and throwing things at his head.

“How long have you known?” she asks quietly.

“That you were Senator Hitahara’s daughter? A while now. I can destroy him. It wouldn't even be hard.”

Irrationally, she wants to correct him with _illegitimate_ daughter, but of course he knows that.

“What did he do today?” Masaomi asks, with the gentleness that is horrifically out of character for him.

“Nothing unusual,” Shiori says lightly.”By now, I really shouldn't let him get to me. I thought I was past it, really. It's kind of embarrassing.”

But Masaomi is still looking at her with those deep brown eyes that know far too much, and it almost seems like he might reach out and hold her, and if he shows her any more kindness tonight, she might fall apart entirely. And she doesn't want that.

“You're the dragon,” she reminds him. “And part of being friends with a dragon means not having him destroy all your enemies, remember?”

“That takes all the fun out of being the dragon,” Masaomi says.

The problem is, she wants so very badly to have Masaomi destroy the Senator. Not that long ago, she wouldn't have hesitated. But she wants to be the kind of person had Hinami would be proud of, so she can't.

“Besides, I thought you'd be with Youji-san right now. Shouldn't you be discussing that _very_ steamy kiss with him?”

Masaomi rolls his eyes, dramatically. “I thought I'd leave him alone with Hinami. If I had to guess, she's dragging him off into the corner right now to tear off his clothes. She looked like a woman who liked what she saw.”

Shiori snorts and covers her mouth with her hand to stifle her laugh further. She'll give this to Masaomi: he's the only one who has ever succeeded in making her feel better in times like this.

When she's composed herself again she meets his gaze and says, “So. How long have you known you wanted to kiss Youji-san?”

“Why, Shiori,” Masaomi says dryly, “what an exceedingly loaded question. That's a bit like asking someone, ‘when did you stop beating your wife,’ now isn't it?”

She just gives him a certain smile. “This entire time, I have been operating under the assumption that you were unaware of your feelings for Youji-san. But that was not the kiss of a heterosexual man learning new things about himself. That was the kiss of a man taking the only chance he thought he would ever get.”

Masaomi stares at her for a long time, and it is impossible even for her to know what he's thinking. Finally, he says, “You know what, Shiori? You've been having a rough night and this has been kind of a confusing day for me, so I'm just going to let you have this one. I have _known_ I wanted to kiss Youji for a very long time now. But I didn't know I would _enjoy_ kissing Youji until about, oh,” he looks at his wristwatch, “Three hours and forty-five minutes ago.”

In a million years, she genuinely never expected Masaomi to confirm that. She likes that he consistently surprises her.

“Define ‘very long time,’” she demands.

Masaomi pats the bed next to him and Shiori obediently moves to sit beside him. The gesture seems to indicate, ‘if we're going to gossip about boys, we might as well be comfortable.’ Shiori mostly thinks how strange it is that Masaomi _is_ a man she can share a bed with (however literal the act is) and feel comfortable.

“Years,” Masaomi says. “Since I found out he was bisexual.”

Shiori arches a brow, recalling a very early conversation they had about how Masaomi learned about Youji's bisexuality. “You mean ever since you walked in on him having sex with another man?”

Masaomi doesn't even look embarrassed. “Trust you to remember _that_ particular detail. You are _such_ a fangirl.”

“Guilty as charged,” Shiori says. “What did you mean when you said you didn't think you'd enjoy it?”

“That means, dear Shiori, that I am heterosexual.”

“Not entirely,” Shiori points out.

“Fairly entirely,” Masaomi says.

“Surely you can't say that with confidence unless you've actually tried kissing another man,” Shiori queries. And she means—surely _Masaomi_ couldn't say that with confidence. She knows full well you can have an understanding of your sexuality based on purely theoretical evidence. She just doesn't believe Masaomi would. He’s the kind of person who would never trust anything based on theory.

“Absolutely not,” Masaomi says, his lips twitching upwards, “that's why I had sex with ten different men, experimenting with a thorough array of sexual positions and acts, to verify that I am, in fact, heterosexual.”

Shiori stares at him.

She stares at him for a very long time.

“It is why I felt fairly confident that I would not enjoy kissing Youji,” Masaomi adds.

“You had sex with ten men,” Shiori repeats.“To prove that you are heterosexual.”

“To _test_ whether or not I was heterosexual,” Masaomi corrects.

Shiori frowns. “Why ten?”

“I admit ten is not an exhaustive sampling,” Masaomi allows. “It would never be an adequate sample size for a scientific journal or an academic paper. But ten seemed like a perfectly reasonable number in order to test the statistical viability of a personal preference. Especially since I was ten for ten on not particularly enjoying it.”

“At all?”  Shiori asks curiously.

Masaomi shrugs. “I mean, sex is sex, so the experience wasn't _unpleasant_ , but it did confirm that if given a choice of gender for sexual pleasure, I would always prefer female. That was strong evidence of heterosexuality.”

Shiori continues her staring, because she is genuinely a little appalled. It's like he was in deep denial. Except no heterosexual man in the world would have sex with ten men just to prove he wasn't gay.

It's more like... like he was in denial about being _in love_.

“Let me get this straight,” Shiori says slowly. “You think you might be sexually attracted to Youji-san. So you have sex with ten men who are _not_ Youji-san, and this somehow proves that you are not sexually attracted to Youji-san after all?”

“You can't put it like that!” Masaomi protest. “It sounds obvious when you phrase it like that.”

“It is obvious!” Shiori exclaims.

“No! No, it's not, Shiori. Stop your witchery. I was doubting my sexuality, I couldn't have had sex with Youji.”

“Yes. Of course not. _That_ would have been illogical.”

“Because Youji is bisexual!” Masaomi says indignantly. “I would have made a pass if he was a known straight, but he wasn't.”

“Yes, I too find it much easier to seduce my heterosexual friends than the ones with known homosexual tendencies,” Shiori deadpans.

“Shiori, I expect you to be smarter than this,” Masaomi says tartly. “If Youji had been straight, then I could have said, ‘Hey, I kinda want to suck your dick, want to give it a go?’ And then it would have just been two bros messing around.”

“As bros do,” Shiori says.

“Precisely,” Masaomi nods, deliberately ignoring the irony in her voice. “But Youji already knew he was bisexual long before he met me. What if we had sex and _then_ I decided I didn't like it? But what if _he_ did? That would have been—cruel.”

Cruel to Youji, Shiori thinks. Who is the one person Masaomi would have never risked hurting. She nods then. “Alright. That was...considerate of you.”

“Thank you,” Masaomi says.

“You are still an idiot,” Shiori says. “You act like there were only two possible options: sex or no sex. Most people start with kissing. Kissing would have been perfectly acceptable place to start experimenting.”

Masaomi shrugs. “To be fair, most of my relationships are defined by either sex or no sex. But it doesn't matter.”

“No?” Shiori says, raising a brow again.

“Sex might enhance any given friendship, but it's not a requirement,” Masaomi says. “I can get sex anywhere. Friends are much rarer.”

Shiori tilts her head, wondering if he was still in denial about being in love. After a while, she decides he genuinely means that. For Masaomi, romance is not a priority. If he had wanted to date Youji, he would not have left him alone with Hinami.“Fair enough.”

He grins at her and then says, “Hey Shiori, want to help me test a new theory?”

Shiori's lips twitch and she says, “Sure.”

It's not a complete surprise when he leans in and kisses her, but she's a bit off guard by his unexpected gentleness. She returns the kiss without thinking, and for just a second—and only that—she lets herself get lost in the surprising softness of Masaomi's kiss.

When he pulls back it's only just the barest fraction apart—his face is still close enough that they're intimate without touching.

“Was that to reassert your heterosexuality?” Shiori queries.

“My heterosexuality has been well reasserted, thank you,” Masaomi says, waggling his eyebrows. “No, that was to test whether or not I would enjoy kissing _you_. Turns out I do. My only reasonable conclusion is that I am sexually attracted to all my platonic friends.”

“Oh, Masaomi-san,” Shiori murmurs. “You're going to have to make at least eight more friends before you can test the statistical viability of _that_ personal preference.”

Masaomi throws his head back and laughs, finally pulling away from her and breaking the shared intimacy of their proximity. When he looks at her again, there is a warmth and focus she does not usually get from men. “Oh, Shiori. Have I ever told you how unbelievably sexy you are when you make me feel like an idiot? You really should date me, we'd be amazing together.”

“Perhaps,” Shiori says. “But I like being your friend, Masaomi-san.”

“We'd still be friends. Just friends who have phenomenal sex together,” Masaomi says.

With a momentary wistfulness, Shiori thinks they probably _would_ have phenomenal sex. She resists the urge to touch her lips. “No, Masaomi-san. It wouldn't work that way. I could be your friend, or I could have sex with you.”

“You don't think it's possible for people to have sex and still be friends?” Masaomi asks.

“I don't think _I_ can,” Shiori corrects. And because he has been so honest with her this evening—perhaps sharing more of himself than he ever has with anyone else before—she feels comfortable telling him things she's hid from everyone. “I always hold a great deal of contempt for the men I have sex with.”

Masaomi doesn't look at her like she's broken—something she's always afraid someone like Hinami or Youji would do. He doesn't watch her with shock or worse, pity, and he doesn't flinch away from what she said. He gives her the courtesy of his focus and then says, “Then we shall continue on as friends. As I said, sex is something I can get elsewhere. I would not lose your friendship for anything, Shiori.”

And in that moment she realizes that she's a little bit in love with him. For the choice he made, for the fact that he didn't pity her, and because he came to her after she cried and shared his secrets.

But, like Masaomi, she values friendship more than romance.

She finds she doesn't want him to leave, though. Even though before she just wanted to be alone. How odd. So she turns to him and smiles wickedly, “Masaomi-san, would you like to see my sketchbooks?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apparently can't count and somehow skipped two chapters while I was writing. =( So that means there are only 11 chapters, plus an epilogue, unless I split some chapters up, which I might. No worries, this story is still massively long!!! I just don't know how to math!


	7. Chapter 7

“I'm the Elder of the Libra Legacy-line.”

Youji sits there for a full minute, before pushing back his chair and saying, “Yeah, OK. We're done here.”

“Youji—” Everett starts.

“Nope,” Youji says, vigorously shutting down all other emotions and standing up. “Have a nice night, Everett.”

“I didn't lie to you once this evening,” Everett says, getting up to follow Youji. He knows better than to try and grab him—Youji would most likely punch him right here in the restaurant if he did. “And I'm not working with your brother. I genuinely just want to date you.”

Masaomi snorts derisively. “Yeah right, pal. Everyone loves a date with ulterior motives.”

Hurt and near hysteria run through Youji, which he viciously attempts to repress. _Yes. Of course, who wants to date me? Laughable, absolutely absurd._

Everett glares sharply at Masaomi. “I had exactly one ulterior motive with this date and I assure you, Akashi, I was very upfront about it. I was hoping for this night to end with Youji in my bed and that was all.”

Youji coughs slightly, but doesn't acknowledge the statement.

“And yet he's coming home with me, so you fail on all accounts,” Masaomi purrs. “If you go near Youji again, I will destroy you. Understand?”

Any response Everett might have had to that statement is lost by Youji yanking on  Masaomi's collar and dragging him out of the restaurant.

Best end this particular nightmare as soon as possible.

*

As soon as they're far enough from the restaurant, Youji whirls on Masaomi. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“What!” Masaomi exclaims. “You're mad at _me_?”

“Yes, Masaomi. I know it's been awhile, but I am furious with you.” Youji is actually shaking with how angry he is.

(But at who? It's not all directed at Masaomi. He's mad at Everett and above all, mad at himself. But he _is_ mad at Masaomi, and Masaomi is right here.)

“I was helping you! He could have—”

 “ _How_ , Masaomi?” Youji cuts in. The rage in his voice actually causes Masaomi to step back and frown.

“How—what?” Masaomi asks.

“How did you know who my date was? How did you know he was connected to the Legacy? How did you even track me down?”

“Youji,” Masaomi frowns. He seems to understand that he's on thin ice but he doesn't seem to understand why. “You know what I am.”

Youji has to laugh then—a bitter, hysterical sound that causes Masaomi to step back once again. Youji runs his hand through his hair, tugging and messing it up in his stress. “Yes. I know what you are. So. You went through my phone, or Michiru's, to find a name. Then you hacked into every known database to get all the available information available on this man. You discovered he was Legacy-line and came running here. Is that right?”

Masaomi's defiant silence is answer enough. But then he says, “I was concerned,” and something in Youji just snaps.

“ _I am not yours!_ ” Youji is aware his voice is reaching near manic levels. “You don't get to—” he bites off the statement, sanity returning before he can say, _you don't get to pretend you want me. You don't get to interrupt my date like a jealous lover, stroking me like you want me when you don’t, you obviously don't, and how dare you, how dare you for one second let me think you want me when you never did._

“Me,” he finishes, suddenly tired by his own  rage. “You don't get _me_ , Masaomi. You're meddling in my life, and Seijuurou's, and poor Furihata-kun’s, because you think you know best, but all you're doing is destroying the people who love you.”

For the first time that evening, Masaomi flinches. It has actually been a long time since Youji has seen Masaomi flinch away from anything. It almost makes him relent, but then Masaomi says, “So I should just let you fall into a Legacy-line trap next time?”

_Because of course he didn't actually want you_ , Youji translates. _Who would?_

“What do you even know about the Legacy?” Youji demands. “Are you researching them?”

“Of course I am!” Masaomi says, now sounding genuinely defensive and angry. “Burying your head in the sand might work for _you,_ Youji, but if there is a threat to my family, then I intend to prepare for it.”

Youji narrows his eyes, instinctively bristling at the criticism about his parenting. But it's not a battle he wants to pick right now. He has other battles to fight.

“So what was the point of coming here then? What did you think you could do?”

“Do you know what Libra-line _does_?” Masaomi demands. “You were in danger! Look, it’s not just that he went after you. I found out there are a lot of Legacy-line currently in the area. If the Legacy is making a move then we’re all in incredible danger!”

“Where are our kids?” Youji says abruptly.

“What?” Masaomi says, momentarily derailed.

“Where are our children?” Youji demands, growing alarmed.

“They’re, uh, at the basketball game?” Masaomi says.

Youji's eyes grow hard. “You thought we were in danger, and you _left_ them unprotected?”

When Masaomi doesn't answer, Youji feels an overwhelming sense of weariness. “God, Masaomi. Of course you did.”

And he heads towards his car to track down the kids and take them all away from this terrible week.

*

The night is so awkward it's painful, and Kasamatsu is trying to figure out what he can do to fix what he broke.

It had never occurred to him that Furihata didn't know about all the things that happened to the Miracles. And now he hates himself for his assumptions, since it's not like Furihata had been there during the whole affair with Jabberwocky and Haizaki and Midorima’s clone.

But...it just seems like something Akashi should have mentioned at some point.

“You do know they used to be assassins, right?” Kasamatsu had blurted out.

Furihata had looked so stricken, Kasamatsu was terrified that he _hadn't_ known. But Furihata had stammered, “Yes, of course, I mean—yes. I did know that. It's—it's just I—what happened?”

Even at the time, Kasamatsu was thinking this was something he shouldn't be telling Furihata. It had felt, a little bit, like gossip, and slightly underhanded. He would not have said anything at all, except that vague feeling was overpowered by a deep sense that this was something Furihata _needed_ to know. It was one of those times where all available options didn’t feel _right_ but there was at least one version that felt exceedingly _wrong._

So he started talking. And once he started talking, it all just came pouring out. Kasamatsu’s fear that if  Kise had killed Haizaki, he'd never stop killing. His suspicions that Aomine probably _had_ killed Haizaki. The plan to take down Jabberwocky—how they were whisked away to some American facility.

Then Kasamatsu started talking about his own abduction by the Legacy-line, and the revelations that his father's family have been part of an ancient breeding cult for various superpowered humans.

“That's terrible,” Furihata had said, all innocence.

And Kasamatsu had exploded. “You mean Akashi didn't tell you _any_ of this?”

“Should he have?” Furihata asked meekly.

“Yes,” Kasamatsu said, swallowing his own rage. “He should have told you. I'm sorry, when Kise said he talked to Akashi, I assumed Akashi had talked to you. Otherwise I would have said something sooner. But my uncle is looking for an immune human, Furihata. Apparently he wants one really bad.”

“An immune—” Furihata started but then it all connected together, “but that's what—” and he stopped, suddenly looking very sad. “Oh. No. Akashi never told me. What does he want with—with an immune human?”

“I don't know,” Kasamatsu said. Then he started to feel overwhelmed by it all. “Nothing good.”

It almost seemed like a godsend when Masaomi said, “You know what? You kids don't need me hanging around like a creepy old man. You have fun without me.”

Because Kasamatsu thought it would be his opportunity to clear the air. Get the conversation rolling, get Akashi and Furihata talking to one another, and fix things.

But Furihata has withdrawn within himself. He looks a little—beaten. Like someone has kicked him too many times.

And Akashi... Akashi has been lost in thought ever since the temple. He too seems like he's retreated inside himself.

Except, when Akashi retreats inside himself, he doesn't seem beaten down. When Akashi withdraws from the world he defaults back to Teiko, and Kasamatsu is not sure how to talk to either of these two people. Much less get them to talk to each other.

Out of the corner of the eye, he sees someone walk past them.

*

Akashi can’t stop thinking about his earlier conversation with Mayuzumi and Nijimura.

“She said she remembered Cairo,” Mayuzumi repeated.

“What did you say her name was?” Akashi had said, in that calm before battling a storm.

“Marie White. You're not going to do something to her are you? She's not a threat.”

“That's impossible,” he said, fixating on her name. It couldn’t be just a coincidence. But White died in Cairo.

“You said she was from the second Teiko?” Akashi demanded. “Who—” Surely. Surely not. Surely when they cut up the Projects and put them in children, _memories_ didn't transfer through.

“This is obviously a sore subject for you. Forget I said anything,” Mayuzumi said, as if that could erase the words.

In the distance, Akashi could hear Nijimura’s voice saying, “What about Cairo?” Mayuzumi must have muffled the receiver for his response, because Akashi couldn't hear anything after that, much to his extreme impatience.

But then Nijimura took the phone. “Marie isn't the problem. Your dad was asking about  Cairo.”

Akashi didn't respond.

“0102, did you hear me? Akashi Masaomi wanted to know about Cairo. Has he asked you about that mission?”

“No, I don't believe he would,” Akashi said, his voice distant. This news was not nearly as surprising or as relevant as Nijimura seemed to think it would be. But he knew that Nijimura wanted an answer, and the Rainbow was not so easily deterred, so Akashi said, “Akashi Masaomi is my own concern. I will deal with him when the time comes. I am much more interested in this Spliced child. Hand the phone back to Mayuzumi-san.”

There was a pause, and then Nijimura said, “Nope, he says he's done talking to you and I should just hang up.”

And then Nijimura hung up on him.

Akashi was briefly tempted to fly to America and deal with both of them, but he allowed that he had more pressing concerns.

But still, he keeps thinking about Marie White, and the impossibility that she implies. He even called Momoi afterwards to get her take on things and he is still not sure if that was a mistake. Momoi had seemed—altered by the news.

“Oh! Did you see that? That play was amazing! Guys, am I the only one watching this game?”

Akashi gives Kise a particularly withering look. Kise grimaces, but he doesn't shrink away. “Come on, you guys! Enjoy yourself! Everyone is being super weird!”

“I'm going to buy some snacks,”  Kasamatsu announces.

“Senpai! I'll go with you then—”

“No, stay here,” Kasamatsu commands. “I think you guys both need to talk to Furihata.” He gets up and starts maneuvering his way through the aisle.

But Kasamatsu’s parting words succeed in drawing Akashi's attention, and he looks to Furihata. “Do we need to talk?” He keeps his voice light, with the cadence of amusement.

But Furihata doesn't share his amusement, and Akashi's attention hones in. It occurs to him that in his own preoccupation, he hasn’t noticed that Furihata has also been rather quiet.

 “Kasamatsu told me about the Legacy-line,” Furihata says.

The audience cheers—a roaring sound that drowns. The place is far too much everything, too much.

“You know what? I think Kasamatsu-senpai needs help with those snacks after all,” Kise says, getting out of his seat.

“Stay put,” Akashi orders, and Kise sits back down like Akashi had used his abilities. “ _What_ did Kasamatsu tell you about the Legacy-line?”

Furihata shrugs. He doesn't look at Akashi, and Akashi feels a surge of irrationality course through him, making him feel all kinds of things that he shouldn't. This chaotic mess of anger and protectiveness and the desperate frustration that he can't Order Furihata to bend to his will.

( _Bad_ , he thinks to himself.

**Bad** , Seijuurou says in his mind.)

“Just what happened to him. And about his uncle, and what his uncle is looking for.” Furihata meets his gaze. “He told me about Jabberwocky and Haizaki too.”

_Well_ , Akashi thinks. _Damn._

*

Kasamatsu had fully intended to facilitate (or, supervise) any conversation between Akashi and Furihata about the revelations from earlier this afternoon. It was, after all, his fault that those revelations came out. It's his responsibility to help them right now, and if there's one thing that matters to Kasamatsu, it's fulfilling his responsibilities.

But he saw someone.

He thinks.

And because he thinks he saw someone, he gets out of his seat and says something about getting snacks.(And because the silence had been unbearable, he tried to get the conversation going before he left).

He's not entirely sure what he's doing, actually—as soon as he gets to the crowded snack bar he has no idea what he even thinks he's doing.

( _This isn't like you, Yukio. You don't act first and think later. You plan. You do it right. You don't act on your own. You yell at others for acting on their own_ —)

Kasamatsu sees him, sitting on a bench. A boy in dark clothes with purple streaks in his hair—like one of those rebellious youths loitering in front of malls after hours. Not exactly the kind of teenager who would go to a basketball game, but not someone so unusual that anyone would think twice about it.

_Go back_ , part of Kasamatsu yells at himself. _Go back right now and get the others._

Sometimes, when he's not sure if he's doing the right thing, he thinks about his mother. He tries to picture his mother and imagine what she would do.

Thinking about his mother now, he walks forward and sits down to the boy on the bench. Kasamatsu moves his hands to his pockets and he slouches somewhat. He looks at the boy, who is examining his painted black nails, and he says, “I heard you were in America.”

The boys stiffens and then turns to look at Kasamatsu. He tilts his head and says, “I wondered if you would recognize me. I didn't think you would. I wondered what I would feel if you did recognize me.”

“And?” Kasamatsu asks lightly.

“And nothing,” the boy says with a shrug. “I don't feel anything. You're an idiot, though. You came alone.”

“Yeah,” Kasamatsu says. “Probably. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Did you think I won't hurt you?”

“I wanted to believe you wouldn't,” Kasamatsu says. “I've been worried about you, Rui.”

The boy who was not really a boy, but Kise's older sister, just laughs. And it's a remarkably bitter sound.

“So? Is that supposed to mean something to me? Am I supposed to be grateful?” Rui mocks.

“You don't need to feel anything,” Kasamatsu says, his voice gruff and low, “I'm just telling you how I feel. I was worried because I care.”

“You're an idiot,” Rui says, and she's not looking at him. “I'm probably going to kill you one day.”

Kasamatsu replies softly, “I hope not. There's been too much violence already.”

“More to come,” she says, and Kasamatsu fixates on her. She's still staring into space. She's not the same person he met so briefly during his (abduction? Waylaid by evil uncle? Hard to describe what exactly happened.)

She looks—a bit broken, if he had to articulate. She looks like pieces of porcelain just strewn across the floor. And Kasamatsu—he isn't the kind of person who can put people back together. He’s not even sure one person who could do such a thing for another, but he knows full well he does not have that superhuman ability. He’s never felt more inadequate than right now, as he tries to think of what the right thing to say is.

“Rui,” he says carefully, because he doesn't want to scare her off, and he doesn't want to make things worse. “Do you know something?”

She turns to him slowly, and there's a strange disconnect. It's like she's looking at him but also not; like she's there but also far away. “Do you think happiness lasts forever?”

He frowns, not knowing how to answer, but growing apprehensive.

“I thought it could last forever. Being in Samezuka, working for Archer. I thought the days would just go on like that.”

“Rui,” Kasamatsu starts.

“Nothing lasts forever,” she says, and she stands up.

“Rui, wait,” he says, knowing that he's losing her. He’d said the wrong thing after all.

“The next time we see each other, you're going to have to kill me,” she says, and she shoves him.

It's not painful. It just knocks him to the ground, and when he looks back up she's gone, melted into the crowd.

*

“Why didn't you tell me?” Furihata asks. He really hadn't planned on having this conversation here, now. He'd already decided that he would just keep quiet. But once he starts talking he can't contain all the hurt and betrayal.

“I mean... I know... I know it's not my business, but some of it _was_ directly relevant to me, wasn't it?”

Furihata doesn't want to be one of those people who says, _why didn't you tell me_ to their significant others, even though he just asked the question. It hurts that Akashi didn't tell him about the stuff that happened before they started dating. It hurts so much it feels like someone shot him. But he always hates it when people say that on TV shows. It always seemed like a selfish thing to say to another person. It's not like Akashi owes Furihata anything. If he didn't want Furihata to know (as much as it hurts) then Furihata desperately wants to be OK with that.

But. Some of it was about him. Didn't Akashi think Furihata needed to know someone is targeting immune humans?

“Furihata,” Akashi says, his voice in a very controlled tone that Furihata hates because that's the voice Akashi uses when he's _managing_ things. “I made a decision based on what I believed to be the best path of action to ensure the best outcome—”

“Stop that!” Furihata cries, because that's _exactly_ Akashi trying to manage something, and Furihata doesn't want to be managed. “I'm your boyfriend, not one of your employees!”

“Woo, Senpai sure is taking a long time, I better—”

“Stay there, Kise,” Akashi says sharply, and Kise sits back down with great force.

“I kept things from you because it was not something you needed to be concerned about,” Akashi says, fixing his red stare on him.

It knocks the air out of him, and Furihata has to grip his knees. Didn't concern him. Akashi's past didn't concern him, his present worries didn't concern him.

_Then what am I to you_ , Furihatas thinks. Not an equal, not a confidant. Not someone who needed to be concerned about Akashi at all.

_We should break up._

Furihata doesn't realize he said that out loud until Akashi reels back. “Furihata—”

Oh, he did say that out loud. Furihata stands up. “I have to go.”

“We need to talk about this,” Akashi says.

“No, I need—” _air,_ he needs to be alone so he can _think_ , it’s too crowded and too loud in here and he’s not sure he can breathe, “—to be away. I need to leave.”

“Stay here,” Akashi says, glowing red when he does so.

Furihata stares at him, feeling something he doesn't have the words to name.

Akashi stops glowing, and Furihata thinks he has never seen Akashi look so horrified.

Furihata leaves without another word.

*

Hinamori Akane pulls up to the restaurant and to her relief, her boss is still standing there.

He sent her a single text: CODE HK. And so she dropped everything and came to his side, because in all her years of knowing the man, he had never actually used the Code HK function.

“Masaomi-san,” she says when she's close enough. He's just standing there, still holding the cell phone he used to text her. And when he looks up at her, it's like he doesn't see her at all.

“Masaomi-san,” she says again. “I'm here to take you home.”

And now he's looking at her like she's the enemy. She tenses—prepared to fight him, if she has to, since she is physically stronger than him.

“Akane-chan,” he says, and she takes it as a promising sign that at least he recognizes who she is.

“Yes, that's right, Masaomi-san,” she says. Once again she tries, “I'm here to take you home.”

“I brought the Jag,” he says.

“I will send someone to pick it up later.”

Slowly, she maneuvers him into her car, taking away his keys and phone. He's still silent  and tense, but at least he doesn't resist.

When she starts driving, he says, “I think I really fucked up this time.”

She very dutifully refrains from saying, _I told you so._

“You did tell me so,” Masaomi says anyway, “but thanks for not gloating. You get that from your mother.”

“Masaomi-san,” she warns.

“You said I would blow this one of two ways, through Furihata or through Youji. Guess which one it was.”

“Youji-san.”

Masaomi snorts. “I hate that you're so smart.”

“No, you don't.”

“No. I suppose I don't. Don't take me home, I'm—not good company right now.”

She already gathered that, and doesn't point out that she's been driving in the opposite direction. “Where would you like me to take you, Masaomi-san?”

There's a long silence, with nothing but the other cars driving in the night, whooshing past like waves crashing on the shore.

“I don't know,” Masaomi says finally. “Just keep driving.”

*

The rest follows in a series of events that Akashi does not fully experience.

Kise tries to talk to him.

There's a whole lot of rage that frightens even Akashi.

At some point, Kasamatsu returns and then heads out again, and that rage has a focal point. Then there is Kise, and Kise has his own rage, and is quite possible they will fight right here in a very public setting.

It is quite possible that Akashi will kill Kise.

It is even possible that Kise will kill Akashi.

But then Youji arrives, and he wants to know where Furihata is, and it's the only question that could derail Akashi's rage, because he doesn't know that answer, _he doesn't know that answer_ , and he should.

(He might never know that answer again. He doesn't have a right to that answer anymore. He doesn't—)

At some point, Akashi shuts down.

It all feels like it happens to someone else. Someone not Akashi Seijuurou. It all feels like a reality that Akashi is not in.

A reality that Akashi very much does not want to be in.

*

If Youji could officially submit his resignation letter from responsible adulthood, he would do so now. He feels like after all the colossal mistakes he's made this week, it's really the only proper course of action. He should be fired from life.

Right now, he's concentrating on the fact that he's lost someone else's child. That seems like the major thing he should be freaking out about right now.

“No one knows where Furihata is?” He says.

“Hang on,” Yukio says, his phone buzzing. Yukio reads a text, his eyebrows furrowing. Then he puts his phone away and says, “He's safe.”

“OK,” Youji says, relaxing only a modicum amount. “Where?”

“Not important now,” Yukio says. “He's where he wants to be.”  
And because it's Yukio saying it, Youjis is not going to press the issue ( _yet)_. So he gathers  the kids—one less than he started with—to take them back to Masaomi's place.

He's fairly certain this is not the responsible parent thing to do.

Something is clearly wrong with Seijuurou, but this is just one more problem Youji doesn't know how to deal with right now.

*

It's a relief that Masaomi is nowhere in sight.

“Ryouta, go pack your stuff,” Youji orders.

“We're leaving?” Ryouta asks.

Seijuurou is already moving away—still in that shellshocked murderous state Youji feels like he should probably do something about, but for now, he has other priorities.

“Yes, we're leaving. Go pack.” He focuses on his oldest son. “Where is Furihata?”

“I told you—”

“Yukio, I can't leave until I have all kids accounted for. I can't have _once lost a child_ on my resume, got it?”

“How'd your date go?” Yukio asks, singularly unimpressed.

“Terribly. Now stop hedging.”

“I probably broke those two up, so my night’s not going great either.”

“ _Yukio_ ,” Youji says.

And now he's being measured by his own child, and it's a distinctly disconcerning feeling.

_Talk to me_ , Hinami once said to him. _Talk to me or we’ll never work._

Youji swallows. Yukio is nineteen and old long before his time. _You always get him to fix your problems, you might as well treat him like an adult_ , he thinks bitterly and he says, “My date... was apparently Legacy-line.”

“What?” Yukio startles, properly alarmed. “Are you okay? Did she try anything?”

Youji sighs and says, “ _He_ was perfectly ordinary. Masaomi crashed the date and the whole thing—became a thing. Look I just—”

A text message interrupts his train of thought and like a coward he takes this opportunity to look at it. After he reads it he knows this is a decision point and he's not sure what he's supposed to do.

Like all the times he has to make a hard decision, he thinks about Hinami. What would Hinami do?

“Dad?” Yukio says.

“I am going to take care of something,” he announces. “You stay here. Don't talk to strangers. And bring Furihata back.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Yukio says, annoyance warring with concern.

“I'll be back in a couple hours. If I'm not—” he stops. “I'll be back,” he finishes, and then darts out of the house.

Hinami, all things considered, would probably be smarter about this.

*

It is not a surprise that Akane takes him to the Kyoto base for Akashi Industries—it must seem like the only reasonable option. Masaomi doesn't object, because he keeps a bottle of whiskey in his office, and that's really all he wants right now.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Akane says and in her flat tone.

“Bite me,” Masaomi says, pouring one glass and downing it all at once, just to feel the burn in his lungs. The second glass he drinks more leisurely.

“What did you do?”

“Props to you, for refraining from asking that question for as long as you did.”

“Masaomi-san.”

What did he do? “I was thoughtless and selfish.”

Akane waits for him to elaborate, but Masaomi can't. He was thoughtless and selfish, but so what? Youji was always the one person where that never mattered. Masaomi can't understand why this time was an exception. Why this was too much for Youji to handle.

_I'm not yours._

Suddenly, he has to grab onto his desk, to keep himself from toppling over.

“I really thought—” Masaomi puts down his glass, and laughs then. Hysterical and manic, he laughs, and if it was anyone but Akane standing there, they would be calling 119 to commit him to some sort of hospital, or prison.

And if it was anyone but Akane standing there, Masaomi could never say what he says next, “I really thought he'd come to _me_ when he was ready to date again.”

It sounds so unforgivably arrogant, when he says it out loud like that. And it's not like he'd been _waiting_ —he genuinely didn't think that Youji would _ever_ want to date anyone after Hinami.

_But, you did think it would be you, didn't you?_ Says a very ugly voice in the back of Masaomi's mind. _You assumed if it wasn't Hinami, it would be you._

Instead, it was some other man. Some other man who made Youji smile and laugh and look—

Masaomi once again has to brace himself against the table, thinking that he might be sick all over his incredibly expensive oak desk. Which would be a waste of a nice desk. Not to mention perfectly good whiskey.

“Did you ever offer?” Akane's neutral question gives him something to focus on, like a single jutting rock in the middle of the ocean.

_I'm not yours._

“Apparently, I didn't have to,” Masaomi says, that near hysteria returning. “I'm not an option.”

But Everett Maximilian Wyndham-Smythe apparently _is_ an option. Some fucking Legacy-line _American_. And just like that, Masaomi transitions from hysteria to homicidal intent.

“Masaomi-san,” Akane says, noticing the shift. “Do not.”

He eyes her and wishes now it was someone else standing there. Someone he could fight with and hurt and break.

“And, what exactly do you think I'm going to do, Akane?”

“Something unforgivable.”

He snorts. “And why shouldn't I? What reason do I have to be _good_?”

She doesn't react (of course she doesn't) but sometimes, it's like a ghost is standing there (and does she remember? She knows, of course, but does she _remember_?) And then, casually, like the twist of the knife, she says, “Is that all your love was worth?”

He spills his whiskey because it sounds so much like _her_ that, for a second, he thought it was even her voice.

Maybe he shouldn't have had so much whiskey.

Ruthless, Akane continues, “One setback, and you're done? You're rejected so you throw your love away? Your love is worthless, if you can discard it easily.”

“And what would you know?” Masaomi says, losing all desire to be kind. “You've never loved anyone. You're not capable of it.”

But if he thought that would hurt Akane, she proves him wrong by saying, “I have loved and loved too much. Else I would have run away years ago. Masaomi-san, you are being an idiot. You and Youji-san both. Just talk to one another, like adults. And if you cannot be adults, then at least be friends.”

He sits in his chair and pours more whiskey, to make up for what he spilled. He puts pieces of himself back together—not to what he is or should be, but what he needs to be. Because he honestly _had_ interrupted their date because he was afraid Youji was walking into a trap. (He’s pretty sure. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have interrupted if Youji had been dating an ordinary person, and if he hadn’t found evidence of Legacy-line swarming on Kyoto unexpectedly, and if he hadn’t thought that this was a trap to hurt Youji. He is pretty sure he would have left things alone. Even if that meant Youji fell in love with someone else. He is pretty sure.)

“Well. You're right about one thing. I too have loved too much in excess and I can't stop now.”

“Masa—”

“And you should know, shouldn't you? I’m the dragon.”

“Are you calling him?” she asks, seeing him take out the conference phone.

“Youji? No. I'm calling his brother.”

“ _Masaomi-san._ ”

“Shut up, Shiori.”

“Akane,” she corrects, like she always does.

“Whoever,” he snorts, because he is still mad at her. “Leave now. I have a business call to make.”  
He's the dragon, and if he can't have love, then at least he can destroy everything. That will make him feel better.

*

“Youji,” Everett says, getting up, looking relieved. “I didn't think you'd come.”

“Stay where you are,” Youji says curtly. Everett's texts bought him a chance, but he wasn't going to give him much leeway.

Youji checked out the surroundings beforehand, not seeing anyone. The only other inhabitants inside the cafe is the bored looking cashier and a trio of college students who look like they're studying. It's possible everyone here is a Legacy plant, but Youji feels pretty good about his odds.

So he positions himself near the exit and glares at Everett.

The series of texts were as follows:

_It's not what you think, I'm not working with your brother._

_I genuinely just want to date you._

_I'm not sure what your friend thinks I was there for, but he's wrong._

_Also an asshole._

_And if you're taken, then you could have just said so._

_Although I hope not, because he's an asshole._

_I think we'd be good together._

_The Legacy isn’t what you think._

_Well, I guess that depends on what you think it is._

_The Sagittarius-line is kind of warped. No offense._

_Wait, how much do you know about the Legacy?_

_I'll tell you everything you want to know._

_Just give me a chance._

_You can even bring back up, if that would make you feel safer._

_Preferably not Akashi, because he's an asshole._

_Please._

And then there were just directions about where he would be if he was willing to talk.

Youji will admit that this series of texts really do seem more like a desperate would-be lover than a mastermind of evil. But who knows what a mastermind of evil is capable of? At any rate, Youji couldn't help but be intrigued at the promise of information, even if it was a trap. Masaomi had suggested that they were in danger, that there were other Legacy-line around. And if that is the case, then Youji wants to do everything he can to end the threat to his children.

(He probably shouldn’t have left them alone, and he still can’t forget that he’s currently missing one, but he trusts Ryouta and Seijuurou to handle potential threats and _Yukio_ had seemed unconcerned about Furihata’s missing status. So he’s hoping he can take care of this right here and now, and Youji will never have to see his brother standing over his sons with a gun in his hands ever again.)

“You said you would explain. So explain.”

“Right, I will do that,” Everett says, sitting back down. He opens his mouth and then pauses. “Well, it's—” he stops again. “You see—” he stops and then frowns. “OK, maybe, it would be better if you told me what you thought was happening.”

“Done here,” Youji says, rising.

“Wait, no, don't leave,” Everett exclaims and Youji settles back down.

“I'm not here to tell _you_ things,” Youji says.

“Right, right, OK,” Everett says.

“If you don't tell me what's happening right now—”

“I've been in love with you since I was sixteen,” Everett blurts out.

Youji pauses. That was ... definitely not what he was expecting.

“I mean,” Everett says, blushing faintly, “The idea of you, I guess. You always sounded so cool. I really admired you, and I used to—God, this is embarrassing. I used to fantasize about tracking you down and joining you and you'd fall in love with me, because of my natural charm. My teenage self was extraordinary embarrassing. My adult self is not doing much better.”

“I'm—confused,” Youji says. “Or—you are. Who do you think I am?”

“Yamazaki Youji?” Everett says, looking slightly alarmed. “You are, right? The third Yamazaki brother? From Iwatobi?”

“Er, yeah,” Youji says, “But—yeah, OK, that still does not clarify anything. How... why would you even have known about me then?”

“Because you were legendary,” Everett says, frowning. “All the Legacy kids heard about you. You were primed to be the next Sagittarius Elder, but you rebelled against tradition and ran away. You are an icon for gay Legacy kids everywhere.”

“Tha—that wasn't how it happened,” Youji says, momentarily so appalled at this reimagining of his own history that he can't even be on guard.

“No?” Everett says, sounding genuinely dismayed.

“I didn't—I mean, I didn't even know about the Legacy.”

“You didn't? But—Akashi knew about _me_ , so I—”

“I found out, last summer,” Youji says, “OK, put aside Masaomi for a moment.”

“Gladly,” Everett says, raising a brow.

Youji snorts but ignores this. “I was under the impression most Legacy kids aren't raised knowing about—the weird breeding cult thing.”

Everett purses his lips, like he's considering debating that description, but then nods, as he accepts the accuracy. “Most don't, until the Ceremony. Which takes place around puberty. Since you were sixteen when you dropped off everyone's radar, it was commonly assumed you made it through the ritual.”

“No,” Youji says, hesitant, still reeling from the idea that his past was something people had common assumptions about.

Everett frowns. “But you had the tithe children. I assumed that was planned?”

“The _what?_ ”

Everett sits back, alarmed. “The three required kids? All Legacy lines are required to have three children, to ensure the success of the bloodline. I assumed you did what most gay Legacy adults do: get married, have the three kids—”

“ _I loved my wife_ ,” Youji says, near hysterical. “I'm _bisexual_. I loved Hinami, she wanted lots of kids, not me—”

“OK, it's OK, I'm sorry,” Everett says, taking his hands in his and making soothing hushing sounds with his voice, “I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm sorry.”

 It isn't easy to let himself be soothed by a near stranger, by someone who might be a threat, but Youji starts to relax, and the blinding panic starts to fade away—then he remembers what Libra line can do.

He jerks his hands out of Everett’s and leaps from the table.

“Sorry!” Everett says, raising his hands up. “It was instinct! My kids like it when I do it when they’re upset. I'm sorry.”

“No,” Youji says, swallowing. “This was a mistake.”

“I'm really not a threat, I swear. Although, I acknowledge I'm doing a really bad job of proving that to you.”

“Influencing my emotions is super not the way to convince me that you're harmless,” Youji snaps.

“I know, I know,” Everett says, “sorry, it really was just instinct. I forget that it tends to bother non-Libras.”

Youji thinks about how a smarter man would walk away right now. But the unhappiness radiating off of Everett reminds Youji, absurdly, of Ryouta. Once Ryouta had come to him for advice, upset that he'd angered Yukio.

“I told him how I used his form to trick you, Youji-san. _You_ laughed about it, I don't see why _he_ was so upset,” Ryouta said, and it was the first time Youji had seen the boy express genuine distress.

“I think, because he doesn't want to be involved in a lie,” Youji said carefully, and it was all part of parenting he never thought he'd have to think about. How do you tell someone that what is part of who they are could be considered hurtful to another person?

But Everett is not a child, and presumably he should know better. However, Youji starts to wonder if the Legacy is really so different than being raised in Teiko. He sighs and settles back into his chair, and Everett perks up again, reminding Youji too much of his son.

“That is your second strike,” he warns. “Third time and we're done for good.”

“Duly noted,” Everett says.

“Tell me everything you know about my brother,” Youji commands. “What is he planning?”

Everett hesitates and Youji starts in on a rant but Everett hastily says, “I'm just trying to figure out where the best place to start is. That's the only reason why I wanted you to talk first.”

“Assume I know absolutely nothing.”

“OK,” Everett says slowly. “The Legacy is an ancient tradition of breeding certain abilities and guarding that secret from the rest of mankind.”

“Got that,” Youji says irritably. “Although, I'm a little confused on the _why_. Why is it such a big secret if it's been going on for generations?”

“We're greatly outnumbered,” Everett points out, like it's obvious. “And historically speaking, mankind has not been accepting of the different.”

Youji considers that _we_. Everett clearly draws from an us-versus-them mentality, but Youji is not sure which category _he_ falls into. Or rather, which category Everett puts him in. Youji knows which side he would choose.

“Historically speaking, but the world has changed,” Youji says.

“You mean Teiko.”

“For instance.”

“Well, here's the thing,” Everett says. “Turns out, if you're part of the centuries-old select breeding program, you tend to naturally consider your own superiority.”

“And there we go,” Youji says dryly.

Everett grimaces. “I won't deny the Legacy has its faults or its fanatics, but we're not all like that.”

“Oh yes. _That_ old distinction. ‘Not all,’” Youji says.

“There are factions,” Everett says. “The lines don't all get along. Most of us are content to just carry on with our old traditions, but there are more militant factions—led by your brother, mostly—who think we should be more... proactive, with our glorious future.”

His reaction doesn't show on his face, but Youji feels the instinctive distaste of the phrasing, like a foul odor.

“Look. I'm going to be honest with you. I genuinely couldn't give a flying fuck about any of this,” Youji says. “The only thing I care about are my children. Is the Legacy a threat to the Miracles?”

“The Teiko Projects?” Everett says. He hesitates, which is all the answer Youji needs.

“Some are,” Everett says, his jaw tightening. “But it I assure you that neither I, nor any of my affiliates, mean any ill-will.”

“I am not sure your assurance means anything,” Youji says. “Why go through all this pretense?”

“What pretense? Not telling you I was Legacy? It's not exactly a conversation starter.”

“I meant—the date,” Youji says, “getting Michiru involved.”

“That wasn't a pretense,” Everett says, exasperated. “Did my embarrassing teenage confessions mean nothing to you? I genuinely want to date you. So does my oldest daughter. None of that was a lie.”

“And Michiru?” Youji says, menacingly, since that really had been a sticking point.

“I told you the truth—I contacted her as a means of talking about her role with the rescue and of getting your number. I never lied to her about my intentions, and I was as honest with her as I can be with people who are not part of the Legacy. She knows nothing about the Legacy, but I do consider her a friend. Youji,” Everett shifts, leaning forward, “be honest. I thought we were having a good time. If your friend hadn't interrupted—did you think there would be a second date?”

“I feel like that's a trick question,” Youji says, scowling.

“I _would_ have told you about my connection to the Legacy. I just wish I could have done it on my terms.”

Youji fall silent, and wonders if Masaomi's interference did ruin a potential relationship. But then an inner voice that sounds remarkably a lot like his eldest son starts yelling at him, ARE YOU KIDDING ME, HE LIED TO YOU AND CAN LITERALLY MANIPULATE YOUR EMOTIONS.

Honestly, Youji is rather proud of himself for developing an inner voice of reason. He never had one when he was younger.

“I'm going to have to think more about this,” Youji says.

“That's fine,” Everett says, relieved. “As long as you're not closing any doors, I'll take it.”

“I'm not comfortable with—this,” Youji says. “I really, really never wanted anything to do with this Legacy thing.”

“But you're friends with Akashi Masaomi?” Everett says, perplexed.

Youji stiffens. “Masaomi isn't Legacy.” He _couldn't_ be...

“No,” Everett says slowly. “But certain channels of gossip have been passing his name back and forth. I take it he's waging a fairly effective war against your brother. I'm not sure you can keep completely separate if you're friends with that man. When he and Archer finally clash, it's going to have a lot of collateral damage—where are you going?”

“To stop Masaomi,” Youji says, cursing. Because Jesus Christ.

*

“Senpai,” Kise makes a whimpering sound. “Did you have to tell Furihatacchi everything?”

Kasamatsu frowns at his boyfriend. “Yes, yes I did _Kise,_ because it was wrong to keep all that from him.”

“Yeah, but,” Kise says, unhappily, “Akashi might try to kill you for this, and then I'll have to fight Akashi, and—”

“No one is fighting,” Kasamatsu cuts in. “Look, I feel guilty, OK? But—” he shakes his head. There's a dozen things he wants to say about the stability of relationships, but his own statement—it was wrong to keep that all from Furihata—reminds him of a conversation that has to take place promptly, otherwise Kasamatsu would be the worst kind of hypocrite.

“Never mind. Kise, I need to tell you something. I saw Rui.”

“What?” Kise explains, immediately shifting his whole demeanor. Kasamatsu has to put a gentling hand on Kise's shoulder as he recounts his earlier meeting with Rui.

“Senpai,” Kise says, horrified.

“Look, I don't think she actually wants to hurt us.”

“You don't know her,” Kise says, with the kind of vehemence that startles Kasamatsu.

“Do you?” Kasamatsu asks quietly.

“Yes!” Kise snaps.

“Does she know you?”

Kise opens his mouth and then frowns quizzically.

“She doesn't, and you know it,” Kasamatsu says, his voice low. “Because you're not the same person you were in Teiko. She might not be either.”

“Kasamatsu-senpai,” Kise starts again, and it must be serious.

“That isn't important, not for now. I think she was trying to warn me.”

“Warn you,” Kise repeats flatly, in a voice that belies his disbelief.

“I think—I think Archer might be nearby.”

“Your crazy uncle?” Kise yelps.

Kasamatsu nods, his lips twisting. He really wishes his father hadn't run away so quickly. If Yamazaki Kenji is nearby, then Youji definitely needs to know.

“We probably need to let the other Miracles know,” Kise says, sounding distinctly miserable now.

“Yeah,” Kasamatsu says, equally glum. “I don't want to panic anyone, but—”

Distantly, they hear a door slam shut.

“What was that? Is my dad back?” Kasamatsu says, moving towards the door to look down the long hallway.

“Noooo,”  Kise says, looking out the window. “I think that was Akashi leaving somewhere.”

“Do you think he heard us?” Kasamatsu says, growing alarmed. Akashi was already in a bad mood...

Kise says, “Where is Furihatacchi anyway?”

*

Akashi is not sure where he is going, or what he intends to do once he gets there. The part of him that is still capable of rational thought knows that he should not be around people right now.

The larger part of him doesn't care. Everything is rage and murder and Akashi very much needs an enemy to fight. Any enemy. Preferably the Legacy, but he has no idea how to find Yamazaki Kenji. But he must wage war against someone, otherwise he might grow mad.

So he goes looking for Masaomi.

*

Since Masaomi is not at his Estate, then he is most likely at the Kyoto base for Akashi Industries.

Akashi moves while feeling distant from himself. He is not in a position where he can analyze what he is feeling and thinking right now. The only reason he hasn't let his “other” self take over is because he is sure Seijuurou will react even worse to what happened this evening. So the only thing he can do is move towards the sound of voices while being completely removed from the physical reality of his existence. He moves, but he is not _there_.

Then he hears the sound of Masaomi talking to someone on video conference.

He dimly recognizes the other voice, and then stopped short once he realizes that Masaomi is talking to Yamazaki Kenji.

*

“—time to meet face-to-face, don't you?”

“Akashi-san, you must think I'm incredibly foolish.”

“Not at all. I just figured, while you're in the area, we might as well meet. And you are in the area, aren't you?”

The silence on the other end is confirmation enough, and from his position in the hallway, Akashi tenses. Yamazaki Kenji was in Kyoto? While _Furihata_...

He clenches his fists, torn between the desire to track down Furihata and protect him, and wanting to hear the rest of this exchange.

“But, you see, you've made it very clear these past months that you are my enemy,” Kenji says calmly. “So I don't think we really have anything interesting to say to one another.”

“Not even if it's about an immune human?”

Akashi stops breathing.

There is a silence—the kind of silence where clearly only Masaomi is the victor.

“That is what you've been looking for, isn't it? A human who is completely immune to your abilities?”

“That's a nice try, Akashi-san. But because I _have_ been looking, and quite extensively, I know for a fact that no such thing exists.”

“How smallminded! Because _you_ can't find one, then no such thing exists? That's terrible science, Kenji.”

“You can't bait me on this, Akashi-san.”

“No? Even if I told you that I know _for a fact_ that immune humans exist because _I've met one_?”

_I could kill him now,_ Akashi thinks in the silence that follows. _He doesn't know I'm here. I could come up from behind him and snap his neck and that will solve everything_.

“I don't believe you.”

“Well, that's certainly unfortunate considering I'm telling the truth. And if you want to know more about it, you're going to have to talk to me, aren't you?”

There's an abrupt silence and Akashi assumes Masaomi must have hung up at that point—his father wouldn't be able to resist an exit line like that.

**Do it now** , Seijuurou says.

And it's one of those rare moments where both versions of Akashi Seijuurou are in complete agreement with one another: Masaomi must die. His worst fears are confirmed. Masaomi is a threat to Furihata.

His body already shifts to “predator” mode—ready to stalk and strike his target with no hesitation.

Someone grabs his wrist—quick, with inhuman speed and startling strength.

“No, Seijuurou-san.”

“Akane-san,” he says, in sibilant tones, tilting his head but not making any attempts to get out of her hold—just yet.

This is an unexpected development. He has known this woman almost as long as he has known Masaomi, and it did not occur to him until just now that she must not be completely human.

“Release me,” he Orders, glowing red.

“No, Seijuurou-san. I apologize. But at the moment I believe you are a threat to your father.”

With that, the last bit of “Akashi” slips away, and Seijuurou takes full control. “What are you?”

“Children, I expect you to play nicely with one another,” Masaomi says, coming up and leaning in the doorway. “Seijuurou, are you here to kill me?”

“That depends, Father. Do I have a reason to?”

“I shouldn't think so. I rather think our interests are aligned on this matter. Why are you here? Shouldn't you be canoodling with your boyfriend?”

It occurs to Seijuurou, in ways that might not have occurred to Akashi, that while he is absolutely going to do everything he can to win Kouki back, perhaps it would be best if Masaomi thought he didn't care about the human.

“I do not have a boyfriend. As of a couple hours ago, my love life is in complete ruins.”

Masaomi raises his brows. “What a coincidence. Mine too.”

He holds out something he's been holding and instinctively, Seijuurou takes it. He looks down and to his surprise, sees a bottle of whiskey.

“Pull up a chair, son. Let's drink together. Akane?”

“I am not sure he is not going to kill you, Masaomi-san.” But she releases her hold on Seijuurou's wrist.

“Me either,” Masaomi says cheerfully. “Should make drinking together real interesting. You want to join?”

Akane's face remains impassive. “No, thank you. This seems like a father-son bonding activity. I would not wish to intrude. Try not to kill each other, the paperwork would be absolutely hideous to deal with.”

And now Seijuurou is alone with his father.

“Seijuurou? You joining in?” Masaomi says, pouring two glasses out from a different bottle of whiskey.

“I would love to, Father,” Seijuurou says with a sharklike grin.

*

Hinamori Akane walks away from father and son fairly certain that at least one of them is not going to make it out of this confrontation alive.

Both of them seemed like men at their very last ounce of self-restraint before committing  murder. She has seen Masaomi like this once before and knew that when he was in this kind of mood he was capable of anything, no matter how horrible. She is all too aware that Masaomi's commitment to ethical behavior is tenuous at best.

And, of course, Seijuurou was made to kill. It is his nature. Masaomi took the boy in knowing full well that Seijuurou could kill him. Seeing Seijuurou tonight, Akane is struck by just how much he is like Masaomi. It almost seemed absurd to think they are not blood related; Seijuurou and Masaomi are broken in mirrored ways.

To walk away from both of them right now is to walk away from a single candle burning on an unbalanced stand in a room doused with gasoline. It is almost reprehensible to leave them alone with each other—both of them so clearly needing to fight someone and their favorite opponent right in front of them. Akane thinks, if one of them does die this night, then she might as well have pulled the trigger herself.

So many better people than herself would not have left them alone in this moment—and she is keenly aware that in doing so she is fundamentally failing everything she is supposed to be. The code HK function is still in effect, after all, and it is shameful to ignore that responsibility.

But, she thinks idly, perhaps that's exactly why she walks away. To prove that she can.

Also, those two are idiots, and frankly she's a little sick of their battle. Perhaps this way they will actually talk to one another.

And if they don't, then really, they might as well just kill each other and spare everyone else the headache.

*

There is a young man slumped against the wall of a shopping center. Akane notices because the people around are trying so hard not to stare. A young girl calls out, “Mama, he's hurt!” But her mother just shushes her and speeds away. No one wants to help young man who looks so beaten and near-death. Akane sorts through her options, but only for a minute, and then she picks him up and carries him easily over her shoulder, fireman style. She takes him home, because even if she is rebelling against her nature, there are still things about her that she cannot deny.

*

His eyes fly open after Akane has finished cleaning his wounds, stitching him up, bandaging his cuts, and it is in the process of taking his temperature. He jerks to—attack, run away, get out of Akane's bed—but Akane easily manhandles him back down.

“You have been shot,” she informs him. “And your ribs are broken. Do not get out of bed.”

“Who are you?” He demands, still struggling but eventually hissing and settling resentfully back into the bed, like a wild animal at the vet. “What are you?”

That is the second time in this very long night that she has been asked that question. And, because in her own way she is very tired, she decides to answer this time, and with complete honesty, “Not human. Like you.”

He narrows his eyes—familiar blue gray eyes, eyes that stare right through the soul—and he says, “You're not Teiko.” He tilts his head. “Not Legacy either, I'm guessing.”

“No. I am not Teiko. Nor am I Legacy. I am—something else.”

“And how do you know what I am?” He challenges.

“Because I know you are not Kasamatsu Yukio.”

“Feh,” the boy says, and then he glows yellow and there's a pretty woman in Akane’s bed, still fairly beaten up. “I can't get anything right.” She turns away, her will to escape draining.

“You are Rui, yes? GJ-Y624?”

She doesn't say anything. She doesn't even seem all that surprised that Akane knows her name.

“Who hurt you?” Akane asks. Akane is aware of her own flaws. The question comes out flat, without the kind of warmth or connection that others might be able to put into such a question.

“Does it matter?” Rui asks.

“Not to me,” Akane replies. “But I imagine it makes a difference to you.”

Rui faces her again. “You're cold. Like a Rainbow.” She shudders and then says, “If you’re like them, then just kill me.”

Mayuzumi Chihiro has told Akane a little bit about Rainbows—provided a context for what exactly Rainbows mean to the other Teiko projects that Seijuurou never personally shared with his father.

Akane thinks, _I really am the worst person to have found this woman._ Her very presence is most likely a source of great pain.

“Are you hungry?” Akane asks. When Rui doesn't respond Akane says, “I will fix dinner.”

And so she leaves her alone.

*

Cooking became a hobby when it was clear that Masaomi had trouble remembering to feed himself. He has his own cooks, but he very rarely remembers to have them prepare food for him—and other times he forgets he has food until it goes bad.

Akane discovered that she liked putting things together to make something new. So now, even though she lives on her own, she sometimes cooks for herself because she has very long hours to fill.

“Who the hell are you fucking?” Rui asks, coming downstairs.

“Presently, I am not fucking anyone,” Akane replies. “Soba?”

She sets a dish out on the counter, and Rui limps over and sits at the stool, with an arm holding her ribs. She really shouldn't be walking around, but Akane suspects there isn't much point in mentioning that.

“Your house is huge,” Rui says. “You gotta be fucking someone important. This is good.”

That last part comes out like, “thisifgud” because she's chewing with her mouth open.

“I am glad to hear you say so,” Akane says.

Rui swallows dramatically. “Got any booze?”

“I do not,” Akane replies. “I only have water.” She pours Rui a glass even though Rui wrinkles her nose in disgust.

“I work for Akashi Masaomi.”

Rui pauses her eating, and fixes her yellow eyes on Akane, then starts chewing slowly, not lowering her gaze. Akane has seen photos of a lioness lapping at water with eyes fixed up like that. Predators who don't move their focus from a potential threat, no matter what else they're doing.

“Why tell me?” Rui asks.

“I find I do not wish to mislead you.”

“Is he why you took me in?”

“No. Masaomi-san has no idea that you are here.”

Rui finishes her meal in large wolfish bites, and downs her whole glass of water. She is painfully thin, and Akane knows how many calories Teiko projects need to consume. She puts seconds on Rui's plate without being asked.

“You’re not eating?”

“I am not hungry,” Akane replies.

Rui shrugs with one shoulder and eats her seconds, with no less rush than before.

When she's finished she waves aside Akane's offer for thirds and stares at her empty plate. “Akashi Masaomi. He took in some of the Spliced Projects.”

“Yes, that's right.” Akane says.

“And the Red Miracle.”

“Seijuurou.”

“Does he collect freaks, then?”

“Masaomi-san likes interesting people,” Akane says. “And he has a fondness for monsters.”

“And which one are you?” Akane says, lion stare returning, her lips curling into a nasty expression. “Interesting? Or a monster?”

“Most days, I am both.”

“I thought about killing him,” Rui says, and she says it like a challenge. Like a schoolyard taunt, _I double dog dare you_. “Masaomi. He's Archer’s enemy, and I'll kill any of Archer’s enemies.”

Nothing shows on Akane’s face, she is quite sure about that, but Rui tilts her head and says, “You just thought something. What was it?”

_Fascinating_ , Akane thinks. Not many people would have been able to read her like that. “I was thinking that you and I have something in common. We are both someone else's creature.”

Rui has her hands around one of the chopsticks. Akane thinks Rui probably doesn't realize it, but she's gripping the chopstick like one would the hilt of a knife. At any moment, the Yellow Six is prepared to stab someone in the eye.

“Yeah,” she says, snorting. “I guess that's true. Would he throw you away? If you weren't useful anymore?”

Would Masaomi throw her away? “It is possible.”

“Would he shoot you?” Rui says. “Not once, but twice. Would he send his soldiers after you, when you begged him to keep you at his side?” She’s shaking now. A different person might be crying.

“Is that what you wanted? To be kept at his side?”

_You're cold._

Rui folds into herself, like an origami crane that's been stepped on. She grabs her arms and shakes.

“Is there anything else you want?”

“Revenge,” Rui says, eyes flashing, and she knocks the empty bowl to the ground and it shatters when it hits the floor. Akane doesn't bat an eye. “I want blood and death! I want 626 to _suffer._ I want all the Miracles to lose everything like _I_ lost everything! I want them to know what it's like to be thrown away! I—” she howls, gripping at her hair, stumbling out the stool so it falls to the ground.

“I want them all to DIE. And HURT and SUFFER and I just—” she pulls at her hair and scratches at her arms, like she's trying to break more things but there's nothing left so she has to break herself.

She howls—a keening, screeching sounds—and it's the kind of sound that happens when there are no words to describe what's happening on the inside. It is a sound that Akane can recognize but not understand.

Finally, Rui just collapses. Any other person watching her might be uncomfortable around such a primal display. Rui is utterly deflated now, like everything inside of her has been scraped out and there's nothing left.

She is grieving. Akane understands grief—it’s emptying force. Her earliest memories were all centered around this kind of grief and pain, and irrationally, Akane thinks the woman is more human than she's willing to admit. Akane thinks Rui’s grief is very human and rather beautiful.

“I do not think you want that,” Akane says. Rui doesn't act like she's heard her. “If you really wanted the Miracles to suffer, you would have already started to hurt them.”

“There's nothing I can do,” Rui mutters. “They're stronger than me.” Then, in a quiet whisper, she adds, “He even has Perfect Copy now. He has everything.”

There is a woman sitting on Akane's floor surrounded by broken glass, and all Akane can think about is how she has never truly wanted something. She almost feels envious of this woman—who clearly wants so much, even if she doesn't fully understand what it is she's longing for.

“Did you know that in Western mythology, the dragon is quite a ferocious monster?”

Once again, Rui doesn't react to Akane's words, so Akane decides this means she can continue. “It is a greedy creature, and likes to hoard gold and jewels and princesses.

“And sometimes, there would be a hero to defeat this creature, to win the love of his fair lady, or to do the right thing. Someone once said that in this world, sometimes you get heroes, and sometimes you get dragons.”

“What's your fucking point?” Rui says, emotion once again returning. “I know I'm not the hero of this story.”

“Very few people ever can be,” Akane says. “My point is, I think, that there's nothing wrong with being the dragon, it just depends on what kind of story you’re writing.”

Rui snorts, apparently dissatisfied with Akane's answer.

“I think I am saying that just this once, I would like to be the dragon,” Akane says, causing Rui to look up.

“And what am I?” she growls.

“The princess, I think.” This finally causes Rui to visibly startle. And then she tilts her head and says in that dangerous whisper, “So you're keeping me as a prisoner, then?”

“Not at all,” Akane says. “You could leave.”

_But,_ Akane thinks, _maybe I will bring you back, like a dragon._ She thinks about Masaomi, who was so very dangerous with his love, and thinks that if this girl does go after him, he will kill her. And if she goes after the Miracles, they will certainly kill her. And having found her, patched her up, and fed her, Akane feels the proprietary dragon need to keep her safe and among the living.

“What are you?” Rui asks again.

“I already told you.”

“You said what you weren't,” Rui says. “Which was already obvious. You didn't say what you are.”

“Yes, well,” Akane says, “that's a long story.”

“You have somewhere to fucking be?” Rui snarls.

Akane is not the kind of person who smiles. But if she was, she be smiling now, since Rui has all but said she would stay the night.

“All right. Then I will tell you a story.”

And so she does.

**Author's Note:**

> I have actually tried to tag all the warnings this time because I didn't think they'd come as a surprise to anyone.  
> The is fairly heavy subject matter that is about on par for what has appeared in Designation: Miracle before, but if you have any concerns, please message me on tumblr ([umisabaku.tumblr.com](https://umisabaku.tumblr.com/)—I will be answering questions and possibly including DVD commentary on the writing of this story over there, so feel free to stop by and say HI!). 
> 
> This story is completely finished, but it is unfortunately in need of a lot of editing. Each chapter is *massive*-- this story is well over 100K and not all of it is typed (please see [here](https://umisabaku.tumblr.com/post/179264781449/finished) for more information about the writing process and delay). Unlike previous stories, this one isn't going to have a regular posting schedule, I am so sorry about that! Turns out these super long chapters take a super long time to edit. So please be patient with me, I will do my best to post as quickly as I can!
> 
> This story took over a year to write and I'm super nervous about it, but I hope you like it! Thank you so much for reading this story and this series. Your comments and kudos make me incredibly happy and keep me motivated on the editing process, but really, it does just make me happy that anyone wants to read this story, so thank you. =D


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